


Sweet Dreams

by bbvqueen



Series: The Venom In Our Veins [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguity, Anal Sex, Animal Abuse, Asphyxiation, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blood, Body Horror, Bondage, Boot Worship, Breath Control, Cock & Ball Torture, Complete irrevocable submission, Consensual Non-Consent, Consent Issues, Death, Degradation, Disturbing Themes, Dom!BB, Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Drowning, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Evil puppetmaster big boss, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Facials, Fisting, Gangbang, Gaslighting, Gore, Identity Issues, Impact Play, Knife Play, Leather Kink, M/M, Marking, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Medical Kink, Mental Health Issues, Mindfuck, Multiple Orgasms, Needles, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Owner/property, Pet Play, Prostate Milking, Psychedelia, Psychological Horror, Psychological Torture, Scarring, Sensory Deprivation, Sexual Torture, Smoking, Sociopathic Behavior, Some Plot, Sounding, Spanking, Sub!V, Suicide Attempt, Torture, Unprotected BDSM, Verbal Abuse, Videotaping, Violence, Vomiting, Voyeurism, Waterboarding, Watersports, Wet & Messy, brutal sex, collar & leash, dark themes, face-slapping, piss drinking, spitting, they made it official
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 67,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbvqueen/pseuds/bbvqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We all have two hearts beating in our chests. One belongs to the person we have to be, and the other to the person we really are."</p><p>After the events of TPP, Diamond Dogs keeps growing stronger while its stitched-together leader is starting to come apart at the seams. 100% mindfuck, Venom POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vigilo (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> Please consider the tags. This work is entirely about tearing V apart mentally - and sometimes physically. It is very dark, brutal, and basically one huge mindfuck, in the most literal sense. It's equal parts horror and disturbing smut. BDSM themes (of the bad, abusive kind) run rampant. Read at your own risk.

_“All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds,_  
_wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men,_  
_for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.”_

**\- T. E. Lawrence**

 

_Unknown Location, 1987_

It was all just a game, he knew.

The kind of game where you couldn’t tell when it began and when it ended, with no set rules, clearly defined criteria for _winning_ , or even participants. The playing field was a different one each time, and Venom only realized that he had entered one when it was already too late. Not like he would have turned around, knowing about it in advance.

The Diamond Dogs were busy these days, and the leader of the pack most of all. Every once in a while, a mission that sounded innocuous enough – these were few and far between – turned out _very_ differently than expected, with him never reaching the intel he was supposed to acquire, if it existed in the first place. It seemed like they were mere ruses to lure him somewhere, relayed to them by unreliable informants and faceless clients he never quite remembered the names of, because it didn’t matter _who_ pulled the trigger.

_Badin Salb_

_B. Bond-Høje_

_Misha Lebb_

Experience and skill weren’t enough to avoid the traps, and he ran straight into them despite knowing better, because he was just that kind of man - always looking for a quick fix, something to break up the routine. He could never fully recall how he’d ended up in a one of these unknown locations way off target, somehow losing his radio equipment along the way; perhaps he’d inhaled too much sleeping gas somewhere, or it could have been that strange, shrill, distorted noise that was still ringing in his head. He usually came to in an abandoned and decrepit hovel, a dank cellar, or an interrogation room, with most if not all of his weapons gone. They were all part of heavily guarded compounds and strongholds he had to find his way out of, and due to his predicament there was no backup, no support.

But he was never _alone_. Someone was always watching his every step, he knew. He could feel it, the shiver of excitement running down his spine as he took down every obstacle - every man - blocking his way, trying to stop him from reaching the outside.

Once he was back on Mother Base, he would give Kaz and Ocelot only half-assed explanations and a dismissive shrug, before retreating to his private quarters in order to masturbate, always dragging an orgasm out of himself that was so intense that he nearly fainted, knocking the air out of his lungs.

That was what he expected this time, too; when he opened his eye, and came to in a dimly lit room - that he would be alone but not, that only someone else’s eye would be on him, and not numerous hands.

His own, both flesh and crimson steel, were pinned onto the small of his back, and he heard the rattle of handcuffs, clicking shut. There were hushed, alarmed whispers.

“Wha - “

“Fuck, he’s up.“

“Hold him down, don’t let him - !”

And as if on cue, Venom’s body jolted alive, violently thrashing against the human bindings in his back and at either side of him – he was sitting on the cold hard ground, naked from the waist up, with the fly of his pants undone. The men surrounding him, all of them wearing balaclavas and uniforms he didn’t recognize, had some trouble keeping him down, cursing under their breaths. Venom headbutted the one in his back, breaking his nose. He snorted, and some blood splattered onto his shoulder.

“You fuck!”

He counted them quickly – six in total. Perhaps he’d gotten too complacent, expecting the set-up to be the same as always. This was oddly different and specific… unnerving, too, when he considered his state of undress. He knew he could still easily take them all out in his current position and get out of here, starting by kicking the one in front of him between the legs and crushing his balls. But something didn’t add up, and that was the only reason why he hesitated – granting the man whose nose he’d just broken ample opportunity to yank his head back by his ponytail, pressing a sharp knife to his exposed throat.

Venom held his breath, and stopped struggling.

“ _Listen_ , asshole,” he hissed, right into his ear. He sounded young, and impatient. It was enough for Venom to tell that he was in it for the money, rather than for his own personal enjoyment.

“No, your name was _Ahab_ , wasn’t it? Nobody has to get hurt. We’re just gonna have some fun together. And you’d like to get off too, right? Someone told us that you like to pretend otherwise, but you’re really quite the slut deep down. A slut that’s in desperate need of some nice, big cocks. The more the better.”

“Is that so,” Venom drawled with an arched eyebrow, blade cutting lightly into his skin as he spoke. Someone at his left side jeered, another man murmured something in a language he didn’t understand. He turned what had just been said to him over in his head and looked around as much as his current position allowed.

 _Ahab_ , he’d called him.

It was difficult to map out the room in his mind with so many bodies partially blocking his view, but it was an interrogation room, alright. Door in the far back, a table, some chairs… a hook was attached to the ceiling, some rope dangling from it, and there were a couple bloodstains that couldn’t be older than a few days. He wasn’t able to spot any visible cameras, oddly enough. What he found most notable, though, was the large mirror mounted to the opposite wall, reflection showing himself as he was backed into a corner, held down by a group of mercenaries who had obviously been paid for this stunt, not really doing this because they got a kick out of it.

He knew that wasn’t an ordinary mirror, either. For someone else it was a window. _One-way, huh…_

“So, you wanna play nice? We can do this with or without you.” One hand pulled at his arm, another at his waistband, provocatively.

Perhaps the rules, fickle as they were, had changed at some point. He stared at his powerless mirror self, and felt it staring back at him, gaze penetrating, challenging, touching his core. He’d missed that feeling.

“Sure,” he said, willing himself to relax, tension leaving his body. His response met with a relieved sigh, though the man only reluctantly removed his knife to place it back in its sheath.

“If you’re here to give me some quality time, who am I to refuse? You might be here for a while, though. I’m no easy man to please.”

“We’ve heard that too,” scoffed the one in front, yanking his pants and underwear down in earnest now, while another gave him a violent shove the same instant the firm body in his back moved away, presumably so the man could take a moment to set his nose.

Venom harshly met the ground, the sharp edges of his own prosthetic digging painfully into his spine. He blinked against the overhead light, the men forming a circle of shadows around it as they started to strip down just enough so they could service him – pulling their still flaccid dicks of varying sizes out of their trousers to stroke them to life, and buttoning down their jackets. They descended on him soon after, roughly pushing his legs apart to gain access to his asshole. Even though he didn’t resist and merely craned his neck to see what was going on, hands were preemptively placed on his chest, which had started to rise and fall at a faster pace.

“Haven’t been fucked recently, have you?” Said the one positioning himself between his thighs, as he was handed a small tube of KY Jelly by the one with the bloody nose, popping the cap.

“Nope,” Venom chuckled, feeling the heat pool in his gut, utterly exposed as he was with so many eyes and hands on him. Sent by someone, they were here for _him_ , not the other way around, and the very idea excited him for some reason that continued to elude him.

“Lucky bitch. I’ll go nice and slow.” They squeezed the cool, medical lubricant below his scrotum and the cock about to penetrate him. He heard the slick slide of foreskin as they spread it everywhere, felt bold fingers smearing it around his hole and pushing it inside to ensure a smooth, bumpless ride.

“Come on,” Venom groaned, the length of a dick smacking against his balls, nestled comfortably between his ass cheeks. He gave the man a heated stare, prompting him to line the head of his cock up with his hole, adjusting his angle as he finally pushed inside of him, the tight ring of muscle stretching around his impressive girth. His hips rocked forward, ballsac slapping against Venom’s ass, drawing a feeble moan from him that caused the other men to shudder pleasantly and pump their growing erections more ferociously.

“Fuck, he’s so tight,” the man murmured, already sounding out of breath despite just starting to fuck him, pulling back and slamming his cock back inside, the obscene sound of skin smacking against skin in a steady rhythm soon filling the room, interspersed by Venom’s grunts.

“Well, hurry it up, I wanna see - “

“Fuck off!”

They began to argue among themselves, who got to fill which hole and when, while one of them tended to Venom’s own dick, utterly neglected up until this point. He gave a hoarse laugh, barely audible, letting his head bang against the ground as he was being fucked thoroughly. His own eye instinctively searched for the mirror again, watching how his own body was being used, though he couldn’t see much.

“Hey, pay attention, whore.” Someone slapped his cheek, dragging him out of his self-induced stupor. He growled a response when fingers tore at his hair, forcing him to recline his head and arch his back, and the moment he did, the leaking head of a big black cock was pressed against and shoved right between his lips.

“Mmmn – “

Again, he didn’t resist, and willingly opened his mouth as much as he could to accommodate him, tongue running along a thick, pulsing vein on his shaft. He kept poking against the inside of his cheek at first until he got the angle right, and was able to drive almost the entire length of his cock straight into his bulging throat, the muscles of his esophagus clamping down tight around the intrusion.

Venom began to gag violently, tears stinging in his eye as he tried his fucking best not to reflexively bite down – which, given the rest of his body was still being rocked by another man getting more and more impatient, was no easy feat, even for him.

“Yeah, you like a big cock in your mouth.”

 _Haha, shit_ , Venom thought, as the guy started to throatfuck him without any consideration for his well-being. He didn’t stop for several minutes, not until the man still fucking his other hole finally pumped his seed into his ass with a guttural, satisfied moan, pounding him so hard during his orgasm that his ass cheeks soon turned a light shade of red.

The moment his still sputtering prick slipped out of his ass, Venom threw his weight to the side to roll over onto his stomach, and hoist himself up onto his knees as he began to cough and retch, spitting onto the floor to their feet. Rough hands immediately grabbed him by his upper arms and ponytail again, yanking him around and slamming his face into the ground, cheek bruising. His vision momentarily went black, and he let out a deep, feral growl when someone pulled him up once more only to slap his dick against his swollen lips, covered in spit.

Brows drawn into a scowl, he ignored it, looking back over his shoulder to see another man get down on his knees and into position, flat hand smacking his swaying ass as someone else pulled at his knee to spread him more.

“I hope you last longer than your buddy with the tiny dick,” he sneered, impaling himself on the slick and throbbing cock the moment it was guided into his warm, red hole, nicely stretched and loose already due to the treatment it had received.

“Shut the fuck up,” someone above him said, hitting the side of his head and stuffing his mouth full of dick, which Venom began to work on eagerly – sucking him off with such fervor it surprised even himself.

He was going to outlast all of them. He’d make them blow their load, one after the other, and they’d completely forget about whatever their real objective was. He swallowed luxuriously around the cock in his mouth, producing loud slurping noises as he took him as deep as his own gag reflex allowed, and it hit the back of his throat hard every time the other guy rammed his meat into his abused ass.

A third dick was poking into his eye, wanting to push into his mouth as well, and he began to alternate between the two of them, licking wantonly along the shafts and wrapping his lips around them. A fourth was brushing over his knuckles, the hand tied onto his back, grinding selfishly into the only flesh and blood palm he had left. He curled his fingers around the length, jerking it off with the momentum of every thrust that moved his body.

“Holy shit…”

He heard them moan and whisper, calling him names – whore, bitch, cockhungry slut, _good boy_. Greedy hands were roaming and appreciating his sculpted body, tracing the lines of muscles, the roadmap of his scars. It didn’t take long at all until he could taste cum, spurting into his mouth – he swallowed whatever he caught, but the dick popped out of him and more semen sprayed onto his face, thick dollops of white sticking to his facial hair.

He licked his lips, heaving a sigh. The cock in his ass slipped out too, grinding along his ass cleft until it erupted, more cum splattering onto his back and hands, and even more leaking out of his hole and running down his strong thighs.

“I want him now, move over,” someone announced, roughly shoving his buddy out of the way. Venom gave a quiet laugh, trying to catch his breath. He felt sore already, but he knew this wasn’t nowhere near his limit yet. His prostate could take some more pummeling, as long as they mostly left his dick alone. They were too concerned with themselves right then to care about him getting off or the money they had surely been promised, too consumed by their own selfish lust, which was fine.

Before yet another person could plunge into the depths of his ass, Venom bucked against him and the hands that held his trembling body up, utilizing just enough strength to free himself and make the man land flat on his own ass. He then quickly moved over to him to straddle his waist before anyone could think to stop him, sitting on his dick.

“You’re all – too fucking _weak_ ,” he spat maliciously, using his own weight to grind his crotch into the ground, wrenching a pained groan from the man.

“And your pathetic dicks too small. I don’t even feel anything. Let me do it myself, here, put it in – “ He growled at a man who had moved to his side, likely to grab him and throw him back onto the floor, but when faced with an outright order, he obliged, helping Venom by guiding his buddy’s slick erection into his asshole when he lifted his hips.

“And you,” he inclined his chin towards yet another man, addressing him. “Put yours in, too.”

Someone gasped, muttered, “Fucking beast,” under his breath. The man whose cock he’d demanded moved up behind him, accepting the invitation without complaint. He pressed flush against him, wrapped one arm around his sweat-slick torso, and rubbed his rock hard girth against his back. He moved it lower and lower until the tip met the other man’s erection, which was lazily thrusting in and out of Venom’s ass.

He began to push in as well, spreading his hole to an almost impossible extent, causing Venom to cry out of the first time, but he muffled that undignified noise by burying his face in his own shoulder. God, did it burn. For a moment, he was worried something might tear, especially when they started to fuck him in tandem, multiple hands supporting him as he stubbornly moved against their double dicks, taking them balls deep. He squeezed his eyes shut and began to feel dizzy as he listened to them talk to and jerk each other off.

“Man, you think we can keep him?”

“Fuck, I wish.”

“Amazing bitch. Bet he fights like he fucks, too.”

And for the very first time since this had started, something occurred to him.

_Why am I doing this to myself?_

When he opened his eyes again, he saw his mirror image, with no obtrusion. Saw his own flushed face covered in cum and spit, his own ruined body surrounded and taken by these men, but he was the one who’d agreed to it, had outright demanded it. He was the one who was furiously moving his own hips, riding their cocks and freely opening his mouth again to swallow yet another one.

There was absolutely nothing in it for him, no pleasure, only pain and abuse.

 _No, that’s not right_ , Venom thought _, because one man’s pain is another’s pleasure, and sometimes, it’s both at once._


	2. Vereor (Prologue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Let me take it off_   
>  _Give you what you want_   
>  _We both know this is just a game_   
>  _Let me take control_   
>  _Feel me in your soul_   
>  _Where the angels are afraid_
> 
> _I love it when you scream my name_  
>  _Nobody make you feel the same_  
>  _I love to make you come undone_  
>  _And I will make you want no one but me_  
>  _No one but me_  
>  _Want no one but me_
> 
> ~ [No One But Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=72lTIGGyw8o) \- Saliva

They kept fucking him in all possible and impossible positions for the next few hours – at least it felt like hours – taking turns at using and _filling_ both of his holes for nothing but their own enjoyment. They fucked him on the ground, on the table, against the wall, even clumsily suspended him from the ceiling for a while for better leverage, almost dislocating his good arm in the process. It was a miracle that they didn’t accidentally tear off his prosthetic at some point, though the straps that held it in place suffered some abuse and would definitely have to be replaced, once he was back at base. Venom didn’t look forward to coming up with an excuse for that one, but he had other things to worry about, right then.

They’d pumped so much of their revolting cum into him he was sure it’d be leaking out of him for days. _Cumdump_ , one of the man had called him while his mouth was full and overflowing with a mix of saliva and sperm; _buttslut_ , another had joined in, pushing his ass cheeks apart and shoving his wet dick into his loose asshole, meeting not even the tiniest ounce of resistance as it swallowed him up all too eagerly.

Venom bore it with the little bit of dignity he wanted to preserve himself, of course, taunting them in turn whenever he had the breath left for it. They went through multiple tubes of lube, four, five, six at least. They never attempted to touch his dick again, which remained at half-mast throughout it all despite – or because of? – the rough treatment. Predictable, the lot of them, because few men actually had the moral resolve not to take advantage of such a situation when it was presented to them, and assert their power over another while having to fear no repercussions whatsoever.

Their financial backer apparently saw no reason to interfere, anyway, and Venom quietly wondered how many orgasms he had to drag out of them before this would end. It almost seemed like whenever he took one dick down, another one was back up again. Spurred on by some twisted kind of _pride_ , he refused to believe that they had more stamina than him, and kept going with tenacious vigor, servicing them over and over again.

(Or had he misunderstood what he was supposed to do, and had to kill them after all?)

He thought he had finally backed them into a corner – figuratively and literally. One of them was still standing while the others took a ‘break’, and Venom had him sandwiched between his own ass and the wall, grinding him into the coarse metal.

“Come on, come _on_ ,” Venom grunted, panting harshly as he slammed against him again, fucking himself on his cock. His too-loose ass squeezed down on the erection as much as his muscles still allowed, trying to coax another climax out of it and milk him dry.

“Sh— _shit!_ ” The man cried out as another violent orgasm rocked his body, dragging sharp nails down Venom’s flanks as he shot his hot cum up his rectum, but he could tell it wasn’t much this time – unsurprisingly. His balls were probably pretty fucking empty after continuously shooting his load for hours. The moment he stepped forward, the man behind him collapsed against the wall, slowly sliding down onto the ground, and thick, clotted wads of cum began to gush out of Venom’s hole, hitting the floor between his feet.

He looked around, wheezing. They were all sitting or lying around, arms draped over their eyes, lazily fondling their sensitive dicks and sighing to themselves. There was cum splattered everywhere – none of it his own because he hadn’t yielded, at all. There was so much that a third party would’ve thought people had been slaughtered in here, were it a different color.

For the first time since waking up in this room, nobody was paying attention to him, and Venom became painfully aware of the soreness, the headache, and how wobbly his knees felt. His healthy wrist was already bleeding where the handcuffs had repeatedly cut into the skin. He glanced at the door, briefly, then stumbled towards the mirror instead. What he saw there made him pause, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

Drenched in cum and spit and sweat and covered in bruises. The fabric of his eyepatch was soaked, skin flushed, his hair damp, disheveled – he almost didn’t recognize himself. A fucking pathetic mess of a man, if he could even call this thing in the mirror a _man_. He stepped closer, and closer still, squinting at his reflection.

Overwhelmed by his own frail weakness, he fell forward and banged his head against the mirror, the shrapnel lodged in his skull hitting the surface hard enough to cause a crack to appear, and his own vision to blur and fade out.

Like the man before him, Venom slid down the reflective wall when his knees finally gave, collapsing on himself like a house of cards. He hit the ground hard with a groan, and began to drift in and out of consciousness.

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed when he felt the hand of a man tugging at his arms again, trying to pull him up. The other was sliding between his legs to roughly grasp his cock, drawing a soft whine from him.

“Alright, slut, we’re finishing this…”

“Stop,” he said firmly, and the man stopped at once, removing his hands and letting Venom drop back onto the ground.

Had he really said that? Or had it just sounded like him? Was the distortion of a speaker in his head, too? He didn’t know anymore. He blinked blearily, seeing only the filthy, tilted ground in front and below him, cheek resting against it.

A door swung open. Footsteps, heavy and measured, coming closer. A pair of black boots entered his vision. It was quiet.

He heard the men whisper to each other, again, but couldn’t filter out any coherent meaning. He caught the words ‘face’, ‘twin’, and ‘fuck’ in Russian, though not much else.

“We were just about to wrap things up,” someone said. He thought he could smell cigar smoke, wafting through the room and overshadowing the disgusting stench of cum and sweat.

“So was I,” Venom’s voice said, right above him. A hand reached for something, there was the cold click of unfeeling metal, and he screwed his eye shut when another man started to yell and screech and move around the room in a flurry of activity.

“What the fuck, what the actual fucking – “

The others joined in. There was a gunshot, bullet hitting flesh, body hitting the ground. A panic broke out. He wanted to cover his ears, but his arms…

“What the hell is your problem?! You backstabbing - ” Five more resounding gunshots followed, in quick succession, all hitting their target. Someone howled, screamed, scrambled about.

“You fucking shot me in the dick! I’m gonna fucking kill y– “

Another gunshot, another dull thud, and then there was silence – no more voices. Just the persistent dripping of what he knew was blood, red bleeding into white…

It was all over in a matter of seconds.

“Ugh…” He groaned, trying to move but still having trouble. The only other remaining man turned towards him, and Venom’s gaze wandered up from his boots over his legs to his thighs, were he could make out the handgun, the magazine of which was exchanged for a new one, slowly but effectively. Then it was holstered.

“I know you’re awake, V. Move.”

He did, because he couldn’t not move. It took him a fair bit until his limbs acted in accordance with his will, but eventually he managed to push himself off the ground to sit up straight, at least, without falling over.

He gazed up at Big Boss’s dark, imposing figure, still standing above him and seeming larger than life, in that moment. He looked healthy and well, a lit cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth. When he said nothing, Venom glanced at the lifeless bodies strewn across the room – bodies that had still fucked him a few minutes ago, now soaked in puddles of their own blood. Venom didn’t expect an explanation, but Big Boss offered one regardless.

“They’ve seen my face,” he said, the shrug audible in his voice. “Besides, their services seem a little overpriced, given the piss-poor performance they turned in – didn’t even manage to do what I told them to. So I called the deal off.”

Venom snorted, oddly amused and _touched_ despite the needless cruelty. When he spoke, he sounded hoarse.

“You can blame that on me. I guess my mind was somewhere else…” Or rather, _with_ _someone else_ , but he didn’t think he needed to say that. Big Boss canted his head, puffing on his cigar. Venom cleared his throat, trying to smooth out his cracked voice.

“So how did _I_ do?” He asked.

“Mm,” Big Boss grunted, noncommittal. “Why don’t you check yourself?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, a slight, sensual sway to his hips. Venom got the hint, though he breathed a heavy sigh when he straightened his back and arms more, in a painful but not impossible effort to break free of his bindings.

It wasn’t the prosthetic that suffered any notable damage when he pushed apart his wrists and the handcuffs holding them together. He didn’t make a sound when the sharp metal tore into his flesh, perhaps even his bone; not until the chains finally snapped, accentuated by a strained gasp.

Big Boss said nothing.

Venom rolled his shoulders and wiped his bloody wrist clean on his own thigh, before he moved over to Big Boss, still on his knees. With his prosthetic he braced himself against his thigh, while his healthy hand was planted on the very notable bulge below his belt, squeezing it appraisingly and stroking him lightly through the fabric. He was decently hard, swollen. Not painfully so, but… he bit down on the inside of his cheek, inhaling through his nose.

“Do you want me to - ?” He tentatively tugged at his leather belt, reclining his head and searching for Big Boss’s eye.

The other man shook his head in turn, and extended his gloved hand towards Venom, who took it.

“No. On your feet.”

He hoisted him up, holding onto his shoulder and lending support during the few moments Venom needed to regain his center of balance – he was doing better already, reclaiming his strength as if it had never been gone. Big Boss carefully pushed against him to maneuver him over to the only table in the room, gesturing him to sit, and the other man complied. He took a last drag from his cigar before wordlessly handing it to Venom.

He raised his bionic hand to his own lips to stick the cigar between them, puffing on it gently so it would neither go out, nor irritate his abused throat too much. He watched Big Boss as he began to wander off, though not very far – he casually kicked over one of the corpses, lowered himself into a crouch, and searched for something in the inner pocket of the jacket.

“I told them not to make a complete mess of the place, too. Now I have to hire someone else to clean this shithole up. Goes to show how well people listen to me.”

Venom wondered about that. He glanced at some fresh bloodstains and recalled what else had apparently been said by ‘someone’.

Big Boss returned to him with an unused pack of tissues and a small plastic tube, which he set down on the table. He peeled the eyepatch off Venom’s ruined eye, plucked one paper tissue from the pack and began to clean the worst of the semen off his face, his other hand holding onto his chin. It would have been a weirdly sweet gesture were it not so _vain_. He found comfort in it all the same.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Venom asked, deadpan – because what else could the tube be for? Big Boss’s lips curled into an impish smile, locking eyes with him for a moment.

“Do you want me to?”

“Very funny,” Venom replied, taking another drag from the cigar and only exhaling the smoke when he leaned closer and against him, “That’s a trick question.” He placed his arm around his shoulders, and Big Boss crumpled up the tissue before discarding it, catching a metallic wrist instead.

It was a slow and sensual kiss they shared, more tongue and breath than teeth and lips, tasting each other. There was no rush at all, and Big Boss would dictate the pace at which they progressed. Venom sucked gently on his bottom lip, released him only when Big Boss pulled his wrist closer and twisted it around so he could take a puff on the cigar his phantom was still holding onto, for him.

“Did you jack off every time, too?” Venom asked, voice low, too curious for his own good. Big Boss breathed some smoke into his mouth, delaying his reply.

“It was tempting,” he said. “But no.”

Venom snorted a chuckle. “So you waited all this time… lying straight to my face, Boss.” Big Boss licked lazily over his lips, still red and swollen from all the cocksucking they had done not long ago.

“I’m not lying. Well… I guess I did, just once,” Big Boss murmured, sounding faux-indignant. He paused for a light, fleeting kiss. Venom felt how another hand was placed flat against his chest, sneaking higher, fingertips brushing over his collarbone and finally embracing his throat, comfortingly.

But the snare snapped shut anyway.

“When you were still in the hospital, like this.” He resolutely pushed him down onto the table until his shoulders hit the hard surface, and Venom’s body gave. He found it hard to swallow, even though the grip was comparatively light. Big Boss went on, eye and voice darker, more penetrating.

“I cleaned up afterwards, of course. You didn’t notice anything. Nobody did.” His thumb stroke along and dug into Venom’s jugular vein, eliciting a stifled, guttural groan.

“And I know I could’ve done more than that, still, and gotten away with it…”

Venom blinked repeatedly, fighting the lightheaded feeling and the flashes of disjointed memories; a bandaged face, a shadow behind a curtain, countless vases of flowers on the other side of a room…

He almost dropped the cigar. Big Boss finally let up on the pressure, taking it from him to indulge his oral fixation, sighing out a plume of smoke. Venom sucked in a harsh breath, heart beating fast. Out of fear or anticipation, or maybe a strange mix of both – he couldn’t tell.

“Kinda sick, you know,” he said, just to say _something_ and use his voice. “When the person’s - “

“So is this,” Big Boss interrupted him, and his tone became authoritative. “And I don’t hear you complaining. Here.” He shoved the cigar back into Venom’s prosthetic hand, some ash falling from its tip. “Don’t lose it again.”

He nodded weakly, trapping it between an artificial index finger and thumb. Big Boss’s palms pressed against the back of his knees, lifting them up.

“Place your feet on the table. Keep your legs spread.” He drew his legs further up and placed his naked feet at the edge of the table, as far apart as possible – opening himself up for what was going to be the last and biggest foreign body to enter him today, he was sure. He stared at the gray ceiling, breathed heavily, and waited. He saw Big Boss move in the corner of his vision, tugging off his leather gloves, hands unbuckling his belt. Venom heard the metallic hiss of a zipper, and idly began to play with his own waning erection, stroking it back up to full strength within a matter of seconds, or at least that was how it felt like.

Like real arousal, not that hollow and meaningless counterpart he had experienced for the last couple hours, no matter how stuffed he’d been.

Curiosity eventually got the better of him, and he propped himself up on his elbows, craning his head just in time to spot Big Boss fisting his own impressive length with both hands - at least twice the size of the biggest cock he’d had today, and girthy to boot – spreading generous and definitely necessary amounts of lubricant all over the hard shaft.

He blanched. He hadn’t felt that huge when he’d groped him through his pants. And he still had no idea if it was fear or anticipation –

“Boss…” He said, meekly, with an undercurrent of awe.

“Am I taking too long?” Big Boss wondered, aloud. He sounded amused. “Bad habit… Alright. I’m gonna put it in…”

 _We do tend to keep people waiting but that’s not what I meant_ , Venom thought, never getting to finish that train of thought because Big Boss’s fat, heavy, lube-coated dick slapped against his ass, slipping right between his reddened cheeks where he teased him by sliding it back and forth a few times, over his tense balls and used, puckered hole. That sensation alone was enough to make him trail off into a feeble moan, looking up at Big Boss’s face with barely suppressed desire. His progenitor responded with a soft, knowing laugh.

“You like my cock, V? It’s not a question that needs to be asked, is it…”

He took himself in hand to guide the tip of his cock, precum dribbling from it like it was regular semen, to his asshole, where he began to press inside, smoothly diving into his heat with a squelch. He didn’t pause until he had inserted the first four, five inches, and that was only half of it –

Venom’s legs shook, and he had trouble keeping his feet where they were, toes curling. He groaned like a dog in heat the entire time, stubbornly holding onto the cigar while the nails of his other hand scratched along the surface of the table, leaving visible marks.

“Easy,” Big Boss said, angling his hips for the homestretch, and then he went in all the way in with a single, precise thrust, balls smacking loudly against his ass. Venom’s eyes rolled back in his head – not because it hurt, but because his length had grazed his prostate perfectly and persistently while penetrating, sending shivers down his spine. It was completely different from what the other men had been doing with their cocks, clumsily pounding his asshole. And they hadn’t even started yet…

“Boss – “ He whined. He tried to think of something more intelligent to say, but that proved difficult.

“Look how effortlessly you took it,” Big Boss marveled, broadening his own stance a little. He placed his hands on the insides of Venom’s thighs, stroking them – the shape of a V.  “Guess those guys were good for _something_ , at least.”

Venom gave a heated chuckle, swallowed. He could hardly hold still.

“That… was the plan from the start… wasn’t it? To get me like this - ” He panted, helplessly.

Big Boss flashed a brief, wolfish grin. “That’s just hearsay,” he said, with a narrowed eye. “Made it up yourself. Besides, it sounded like you were enjoying this, or am I getting the wrong impression?”

_So wasn’t it worth it?_

He didn’t need to answer that unspoken question. Venom brought the cigar to his lips, and exhaled the smoke in a shaky sigh, reveling in the feeling of having Big Boss fill him up completely, having Big Boss inside and above him and soon, he was sure, bearing down on him until he could no longer breathe freely.

“Thought so.”

Big Boss pulled back until his cock almost slipped out, and drove back inside with a powerful thrust, causing Venom to croak something and almost drop the smoke after all, just barely catching it again. Big Boss noticed, and gave him an admonishing look – but he didn’t pause or slow down at all. He began to pound him in earnest, his pace slow but grueling and forceful. The table skid over the ground and thudded against the wall every time he pistoned his hips, surging into his mate with overwhelming strength and precision, hitting him right where it mattered.

“Fuck, fuck,  _fuck,_ hngh – “

Venom grunted and cursed every single time he smacked against and ground into him, voice growing more shrill. Big Boss’s nails were digging harshly into his thighs, pulling him into every thrust for additional momentum, for an additional inch dragging along his prostate and producing slick friction.

It was fucking fantastic.

“Oh, oh, mmm… ah, hah, Boooss _sss_ ,” Venom soon began to sputter, incoherently – making all sorts of lewd, embarrassing noises. Big Boss had become his only focus, and he used up all of his willpower on the single, simple task of keeping his eye open, to look at him. This was the man his world had always revolved around, even before he had taken on his identity. The pivotal point. He was so deeply lodged inside of him, Venom knew, he’d never leave, even when he physically walked away –

His cock bounced rhythmically with every thrust, and his mouth hung open. “Ngh, aah, Boss, Boss – Boss!” He called out and moaned, freely, passionately, drunk on the image and feel of him. Big Boss stared back at him, _into_ him, with something he was _sure_ was genuine affection. He took the cigar out of Venom’s hand before it slipped from his fingers, stuck it between his teeth, biting down on it.

He growled as he began to increase his pace, gradually, relocating both of his hands to Venom’s weeping dick and the other to his throat to wrap around it, slamming his head back onto the table, hard enough that his vision went white for the next couple of thrusts. He almost bit down on his tongue.

“Got something to say to me? No?”

“Fuck mee _ee_ , Bo—Boss— fu—ck, nnn— “ He rasped, croaked, air supply almost completely cut off when Big Boss pressed down on his windpipe and fucked what breath he still had out of him. Venom's hands flew up to his wrist, half-heartedly trying to tear it away. Big Boss had started to jerk him off too, at some indeterminate point, pumping his dick violently and in the same rhythm as he was plowing into his ass, like a well-oiled machine.

It went with a cruel, heated laugh.

“That’s all you can say anymore, isn’t it? Fuck me, _Boss!_ Harder, _Boss!_ Thank you for taking care of me, _Boss!!”_

_“Ggnh— thank y— Bo— “_

He could’ve died right then and there, and it wouldn’t have mattered. His climax hit him with such force that he did pass out, amplified by the pressure, the danger of suffocation making his head feel light – he repeatedly and reflexively pounded his own head against the table, struggling for consciousness until he felt something wet, the skin bruising. Cum shot from his own dick in several hot bursts, hitting his chest and stomach and Big Boss’s fingers. He came, and came, and Big Boss didn’t slow down. He only removed the hand choking him, and Venom gasped frantically for air even as the other man kept fucking him with increased ferocity.

He spilled soon after, shooting a perceived gallon of cum up his ass and deep into his core with a feral, guttural growl, slamming wildly into him and tearing at his waist like some sort of animal.

Venom began to drift in and out of consciousness, once more, missing this beat and that, not sure when Big Boss had stopped, or how his cock had slipped out of him. He felt the hot ember of the cigar near his thigh, ground out against the skin to leave a mark, and he merely hissed in response. He felt his own hand drift between his thighs, sticking the fingers into his asshole to plug it up, shove the cum trickling out of it back up inside himself.

 ** _Your_** _bitch_ , he thought, maybe. The words were floating, intangible, just like Big Boss’s face _. And no one else’s._

“That’s right,” said Big Boss.

***

The next time he came to, it was in a nondescript shack that seemed fairly unremarkable. He heard D-Horse neigh somewhere close, and when he looked outside, he recognized the Afghan landscape. He must’ve have passed through here at least five times this week.

He was clothed, too, wearing his desert fatigues. When he stood, he patted himself down for his equipment – everything seemed to be there and in working order, even his radio. He put two fingers to his ear, checked the frequency.

“Kaz?”

Kaz’s reply was prompt.

“Boss? Boss, is that you? What the hell, I couldn’t reach you for the last – “

“I took a nap,” Venom said.

“A nap,” Kaz said, deadpan. The _bullshit_ was right there, but went unspoken.

“Anyway, I’ll be returning to base soon. Tell the men for me?”

“...Sure, Boss.”

He ended the transmission, hand wiping over his face and running through his hair, trying to deduce how many of his recent memories were actually _memories_ and not just something his mind had conjured up. Only by chance did he spot a cassette tape on the wooden table next to him. The table itself was covered in a film of dust, while the tape looked new and like it had just recently been placed there. It was titled _‘Sweet Dreams’_.

He put it into his Walkman. The first minute consisted of nothing but static, before it transitioned into pounding noises, a soft one, and then something more solid, with muted voices in the background.

He pressed ‘Stop’ and flipped the tape. On the other side _'(Are Made Of This)'_ was written. He slipped it into the same pouch where he kept his cigars, then stepped outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Obtained Cassette Tape (Sweet Dreams).](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/iwxa7n0u5kijofo/06%20-%20Sweet%20Dreams%20\(Are%20Made%20of%20This\)%20\(Remastered%20Version\).mp3)


	3. Venio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sweet dreams are made of this_   
>  _Who am I to disagree?_   
>  _I travel the world and the seven seas_   
>  _Everybody's looking for something_
> 
> _Some of them want to use you_  
>  _Some of them want to get used by you_  
>  _Some of them want to abuse you_  
>  _Some of them want to be abused_
> 
> _Sweet dreams are made of this..._
> 
> ~ [Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qeMFqkcPYcg) \- Eurythmics

_Diamond Dogs Mother Base, Seychelles Waters, 1987-88_  

Venom barely listens to anything else in the following weeks, rewinding the cassette so often in his walkman he's a little worried the magnetic tape and the recording's quality might suffer for it. Even then the song and its driving beat are stuck in his head – it's the other side he'd like to be able to keep listening to, as unintelligible and distant as it is and remains.

In the end, he cannot tell for certain if the 'dream' he'd had during his purported 'nap' is something that actually happened, because the evidence isn't conclusive enough, including the soreness and faint scars he had sustained – could've been the result of a close quarters encounter, or another piece of someone else's life slipping through the cracks of his broken mind and only now hapharzadly resurfacing to patch up the holes in his memories. (He doesn't know the stories behind most of his scars.) The recording he'd found might as well be documenting an interrogation, or something else; no words could be made out clearly, so there's a chance that it's mostly his imagination filling in the blanks and providing context. Ocelot had warned him about this way back when he'd just awoken, and ever since his hallucinatory meetings with Paz, he continuously reminds himself to be alert and wary when it comes to his phantoms, as real as they might feel. If it weren't for the message _The Man Who Sold The World_ had sent him on the other side of a cassette containing a song by the same name, Venom would probably question even his existence. That tape is safely hidden away in a secret compartment behind the mirror in his washroom; every day he checks if it's still there, and he listens to it whenever the pain fogging up his head becomes too much to bear, to remind himself of his purpose, of his role. Of the man who owns all that he was, is, and will be, to soothe an aching heart buried under many layers of scar tissue.

So again, he'd said nothing. Kaz had tried to push the issue in the beginning, but eventually let it go when he noted that Venom pretended that he had just not heard him and shuffled his feet, flustered, whenever he brought up his time-out (and it wasn't even a conscious act), so he might've interpreted that as Big Boss needing some alone time now and then to relieve himself when things got a little too heated. It probably helped that nothing else along those lines happened again, after that.

"Don't do that in the field," he'd just advised him, then, planting his hand on his shoulder and keeping his voice low, close to his ear.

"I could think of more dignified ways to die. Not like you should contemplate that at all, mind. And, you know – we've had our differences, but I won't actually look down on you if you take someone to bed."

Venom held his silence, naturally, without forcing it. Big Boss and Miller communicated on a different level that didn't require him to talk, only to listen. He often wondered if Kaz knew that he was a fake. Somehow he didn't think so – though he couldn't put his finger on the exact reason for that. It was instinctual, an abstract feeling in his gut that told him that Kaz wouldn't tolerate it.

But as long as he still sees Big Boss standing next to him, there won't be any lasting problems or misunderstandings. That's the truth.

***

The days drag on by without anything strange or out of the ordinary happening – business as usual, aside from minor disagreements among the staff here and there that sort themselves out. His missions go over smoothly, and Venom acts out the role that had been assigned to him, dutifully and responsibly. He makes sure to return home frequently, to be a permanent fixture on Mother Base, the gravitational field holding Diamond Dogs together, keeping the men grounded. He remains attentive to their needs and slams the plentifully bruised faces of his soldiers into the ground to both encourage their growth and discourage their disobedience.

As Big Boss would do. He watches over them, listens to their worries, hopes and dreams, shouldering them all. They tell him their individual stories, trusting him with them, putting their lives into his calloused, sharp-edged, gentle hands.

He finds himself staring out into the vast ocean often and for a long time these days, whether he's standing at the edge of the platform, or sitting in the chopper transporting him to another mission site, mulling over briefings and client names. Tries to figure out some pattern, discover some foreboding detail he'd missed before that gets his heart pounding, makes him feel like he's about to jump and drown, the brief sensation of weightlessness right before the fall, the shattering impact, stealing his breath.

Nothing happens.

***

He finds it hard to categorize this particular feeling of inflated but somehow familiar emptiness for a while, until he realizes he's growing complacent, restless – he hasn't had an overarching objective for a while now, and there's nothing to break up the routine. (No one to seriously evaluate his performance. No cat and mouse games.) He'd thought jacking off could've fixed or at least alleviated this... _urge_ , but he can't even get his dick up unless he's scrubbing himself raw – or permitting his mind to backtrack, and rewind itself, until the mirror is in focus again, showing him more than he can see.

For the first time, he starts to actively notice and revel in the admiring looks that are being thrown his way when he appears at one of the scheduled group CQC sessions naked from the waist up. Weather's been terribly hot and humid lately, and a man should take pride in at least two things: his beard, and his muscles, he'd always say. Kaz lectures him about this too, something about dressing the part and distractions, but it goes in one ear and out the other, bypassing what's between.

He supervises his men's training with newfound interest and curiosity, yet getting sloppy when executing his own techniques, almost being downed by a recruit on more than one occasion, but of course he cannot allow that. He's a figure of authority, commanding respect, the one everyone looks up to as untouchable – but that's just the outside, carefully crafted and modeled after the legend. Nobody can look into his head, see the disjointed images or how he mentally keeps writing another story, putting a different, _impossible_ spin on the situation: he falls, crashing into the ground. His arms are pulled behind himself, and he cannot move, his strength is gone, just like that, he's powerless. They laugh and yank his pants down, stroking comfortingly along his spine and whispering sweet obscenities into his ear, letting him know what a good, gorgeous slut their commander is, all the while forcefully pumping their cocks, hard as granite, into his asshole and throat.

Of course that doesn't happen, either, because Big Boss wouldn't allow that to happen, not even in his dreams.

***

The ocean reflecting the azure sky stretching from horizon to horizon above captivates him, an endless vision of the deepest, most enigmatic blue. It's so ordinary, so present, always in plain sight and yet you can't touch or fully comprehend the extent of either; what it's like for a bird to defy gravity or a fish to dive without drowning, much like he can't comprehend himself. Venom's good hand idly rubs along his inner thigh, to chase and hold onto the burning sensation there, beneath the fabric of his trousers.

" ...the offered pay's fairly low, but considering it's a simple retrieval mission... Boss, are you even listening?"

"Huh?"

Venom's hand drifts from his own leg to DD's wet snout to pet it, followed by a tongue lapping affectionately at his fingers. The dog's sitting on his haunches, right next to his chair and in front of Ocelot's desk. Right – command center, briefing for mission number... he doesn't know. Ocelot sets aside a stack of papers, eyebrows raised. He looks at Venom, then at the window behind himself, then back at Venom again.

"I see the seagulls outside are more interesting than the mission specifics. If you're hungry, there are still leftovers in the mess hall."

Venom frowns. "That's not..."

"You're daydreaming an awful lot lately, Boss. Don't think I didn't notice. That's bad for your health, too – but I'm sure Miller pointed that out to you already."

Venom opens his mouth to protest again, but quickly figures that it won't make a difference. He withdraws his hand, covered in dog drool, from DD, who comments on that with a soft whine. Two seconds later, and his canine companion has found a new seat in Venom's lap, wagging his tail and demanding his owner's attention and affection. Venom sighs, relents, and strokes him behind one ear.

"It's just... nothing much changes, except for the names. It feels like I'm living the same day over and over – like I'm just going through the motions, that's all," he concedes, and Ocelot folds his hands on the desk, considering that for a moment.

"Diamond Dogs is flourishing," he says. "Skull Face and the vocal cord parasite have been dealt with long ago. The men are behaving, and even our biggest rivals think twice before messing with us now, all thanks to your exploits. I've heard of stories circulating among the locals in Africa that make it sound like you're the bogeyman – say his name three times in a row, and Big Boss will appear." He snorts, stifling a chuckle. "There's still plenty of business, but I'll admit –"

"Even you and Kaz get along now," Venom interjects. Ocelot laughs and waves dismissively. He really hasn't been witness to any arguments in a while, come to think of it. "We've arranged ourselves. But as I was going to say, it's really a bit quiet lately." He cants his head, looking at him inquisitively.

"I guess that gives one ample opportunity for self-reflection. But even so, don't let yourself get careless. Plenty of people still have it out for you."

"Right... I mean it's good, isn't it," Venom says, finally shooing DD off his lap. He futilely tries to wipe his hand clean and dry on his pants, dog hair still sticking to it.

"We continue to thrive, and yet we've found our peace. For now, anyway."

_Like we've struck a weird balance with the world, existing in and floating between heaven and hell..._

"The question is how long it will last, Boss," Ocelot muses. "You'd know best that it's not a natural or permanent state of being."

Venom gives a thoughtful hum and gets up, to grab the intel file with the condensed information. Location, objective, mission parameters.

"Yeah," he says. "I wonder."

***

It's somewhere between 0100 and 0200 hours when they quietly touch down on the command strut, and Venom hops out of the hovering chopper, mildly tired from hunting an elusive white antelope all day. There's hardly any room for it on the conservation platform anymore, and he's seriously starting to question if that NGO is ever planning on moving the animals.

Probably not. Least they got a cushion should they be hit by famine like that, he thinks, with no small amount of sarcasm.

He tells Pequod to take it easy, but his pilot politely informs him that he's got to retrieve at least one more intel agent tonight, and Venom feels a little guilty when he starts to make his way towards his own quarters – and only then does he realize he's not been greeted by anyone on the helipad. It's not unusual that there's only one or two men making the rounds this late, but that's just it: one or two men, not no men at all. It's odd, but he doesn't suspect that anything's wrong. Maybe they're just taking a piss. Things have been fairly peaceful, after all, and the men are aware of that as well.

He shrugs to himself, and proceeds. He doesn't learn what the actual reason for their mysterious absence is until he starts to descend the stairs to the lower deck, hearing something – or someone – bang against one of the steel pipes, followed by some shuffling, and a pair of muffled, but distinctly male voices.

"Shit, I can't believe you – we're going to be in so much fucking trouble if anyone sees us –"

"Like who? We're the only ones on patrol duty, dumbass. Now get down on your fucking knees and suck my dick like you've wanted to all day."

"Christ, you don't have to be like this..."

Venom's heart leaps in his throat, and he freezes immediately. He can't actually see them from where he stands, but given the very unambiguous, _wet_ noises and word fragments emerging from between the large crates in the corner, they're probably huddled up there.

"There you go, take it all the way," someone pants, followed by a stifled cry, and Venom's mind races, heat creeping up to his face. It wouldn't be much of a problem to sneak past them and let them be, though he knows that the responsible thing to do is to remind them that they are on goddamn duty, as hypocritical as that might be – perhaps – he's not sure.

"You get off on this, don't you?"

He should –

"Of course you do, dumb slut."

"That's enough!" Venom suddenly bellows without thinking, dashing forward to confront the two men, who are scrambling to their feet in a panic.

"Shit, shit – _shit!_ " The instigator tucks himself in before Venom catches a good glimpse of his cock, and he narrows his eye.

"Care to explain to me what's going on here, soldier," he drawls, voice low and intentionally intimidating. They both straighten up and simultaneously snap to a salute, subtly backing away from him – Venom doesn't think he recognizes either of them. No names come to mind.

"Nothing, sir, we were just – "

"Fucking around while on duty." They hadn't even noticed the chopper approaching. He dreads to imagine just how compromised their security might've been in case of an actual intruder.

"Spare me your lies and excuses. Get back to your posts, both of you." He lets one of them pass, but stops the other one – the one with the obvious bulge in his pants – by slamming his flat hand against his shoulder so hard it probably hurt, if the pained grunt is any indication.

There's an incensed silence that lingers for a few moments, and Venom breathes out slowly, thinking back to what Kaz had said.

_I won't look down on you if you take someone to bed._

It would be easy. The guy wants it, too. For someone like him, it'd be probably like winning the lottery and being crowned king of his own country all at once. All it takes is a few words: _I'll meet you at my quarters in five_ , and then maybe...

_**THAT'S NOT WHAT BIG BOSS WOULD DO.** _

"We're gonna have a talk first thing in the morning," he eventually says, scowling. "Don't think you're getting off scot-free for this. Our list of unpleasant tasks that need volunteers has gotten rather long lately."

"...Yes, sir," the man complies, and Venom steps aside so he can slink away to join his comrade at the helipad, tail between his legs. Venom remains where he is for a while, hears him hiss and deck his 'partner' even from down here. He closes his eye, collects himself, hand drifting towards the warm, burning sensation just above his thigh again, as it slowly but surely begins to spread.

He changes his direction, and heads towards the armory instead, carelessly tearing down one of those leftover **BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU** posters on his way.


	4. Voco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _When I possess your soul I'll say things_   
>  _And use you as my personal plaything_   
>  _The time will come I'll dull your senses_   
>  _If you don't stop this game is endless_
> 
> _Knock knock let me in_   
>  _Let me be your secret sin_   
>  _Knock knock, knock knock..._
> 
> ~ [Labyrinth](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SonKpSoIETo) \- Oomph!

Venom's perhaps a little rougher than he has to be when he prevents DD from slipping into his room, shoving the dog back into the hallway with one leg, a gesture which is met with audible confusion - it's not rare for DD to sleep at the foot of his owner's bed.

"Not tonight, DD," Venom says firmly, shutting the door, and locking it. He can hear DD pace in front of it and whine pitifully as he finally flops down to keep guard outside instead, quietly.

There's that brief pang of guilt again, but it's not like he can help it. After reprimanding those recruits for goofing off, he’d gone to grab a silenced rifle for some target practice in order to cool down, and in vague hopes that it might distract him from considering doing something just as irresponsible.

It hadn't worked, not really - he's still feeling hot, if not hotter than before, and he can't get that vulgar slide of wet skin out of his head. Only by chance had he spotted something else on a shelf when returning the rifle again with a resigned sigh, and without thinking about it, just going with his gut feeling, had taken it with him to his room.

He drops the baton onto his bed, together with his walkman. He untangles the rest of his harness and the attached pouches, tossing everything carelessly aside, and undresses down to just his prosthesis. His BDUs and boots join the pile of equipment in the corner.

The layout of Venom’s room is almost the exact same of those belonging to the lower-ranking staff, especially when it comes to amenities; the only notable difference being that he doesn't have to share - in the beginning he'd thought he didn't really need more than a place to sleep in one of the bunk beds, given that he spends more time in the ACC than his own room, but now he's kind of glad for the privacy that comes with it. It provides an opportunity to shrug off the mantle of Big Boss for a few hours. He's got a bed, a desk with a chair, a shelf, a cupboard storing assorted books and his mixtape collection. Some mementos - random photographs to function as puzzle pieces for his mind - are plastered onto the wall next to the single window, granting him a brilliant view of the Indian Ocean. Aside from that, it's rather plain, undecorated, lacking a distinct personality.

Fitting, he thinks.

The only thing that may be considered a real luxury here is probably the adjacent washroom, which doubles as a mostly unused storage room. He still uses the communal showers together with his men, acting like he's one of them, but even that's been sort of... uneasy lately, particularly when he watches his men let loose, commenting on each other's assets and telling filthy jokes, forgetting that their commander's there with them. When they remember they tend to fall silent and avoid looking at his naked figure altogether, like even doing so much could get them in trouble.

Sometimes, it’s almost like he’s invisible. Like he's just a ghostly, observing presence; acting as a a sentinel, more of a guard dog than a man.

_You’re your own man. From here on out, you’re Big Boss._

Venom wets his hands under the stream of cold, filtered sea-water, running them up and down his naked arms, cursorily cleaning himself off the worst of the grime and sweat. He splashes some more water into his face and turns off the tap. His gaze slowly lifts from the sink, up to the reflective surface of the mirror, staring into Big Boss’s scarred, wistful face. He hooks his index finger under the string of his eyepatch and tugs it off, letting it drop into the sink to reveal the other eye, milky white and unseeing.

(He still doesn’t understand why, why, _why was I_ ~~_burdened_ ~~ _endowed with this knowledge -_ )

He’s felt utterly directionless ever since he told him, as if he’s just a vessel drifting on calm waves, lost somewhere out there, going nowhere. Waiting for a storm to haul him somewhere, to crash into jagged rocks, but it never happens. It all seems so far away, so detached from himself, because Big Boss has detached himself from the natural world and the caprice of fate.

He resides in the Neverland of his dreams, where he is the undying, unchanging despot, and time has become meaningless. Venom’s fingers idly trace the contours of his visage, the strong and prominent line of his jaw, letting gravity drag his hand down the surface. For all the things that have been and that he doesn’t remember, there’s one fleeting memory he’s able to summon in bright clarity.

_But I had a dream too, and in the dream I wasn’t Big Boss, didn’t have to be Big Boss, because you were already Big Boss: the lonely Captain of a ship that stays afloat although the weight should be dragging it under. I was a piece of meat, and you fed me to the wolves to tear me apart, before you devoured what was still left of me, making me a part of yourself. You named me V. I was yours - my body, my heart, my mind. All of me was possessed by all of you. Just like in the dream I had inside of that dream, where you asked me to help you make your dream come true…_

Pain blossoms in Venom’s head as he starts to get lost in the confusing, nebulous mirror-maze inside his mind. He groans softly and touches his hand to his forehead, carefully massaging the skin around the protruding shrapnel. That usually mitigates the ache at least somewhat, though he’s still instinctively reaching towards the small, concealed drawer when he opens the mirror cabinet, containing the only medicine that effectively soothes this sort of pain: Big Boss’s voice. His _own_ voice, but stored externally rather than internally, so he can receive it again.

He stops himself. He’s been avoiding listening to it too often for fear of the cassette breaking down, and it won’t quell his own hunger, sate his need for something he can actually feel. The pain will eventually subside by itself, and so he takes out a tiny plastic jar of rarely used vaseline instead, turning around and pulling the door closed behind him.

He passes the window, the rows of captured memories, and briefly glances outside. In the dead of night, the motionless ocean is dark, almost black, like tar. Rain is pounding against the skeletal steel construction that constitutes their home. He feels strangely tempted to go outside like this, soak it all up, pretend that the rain can cleanse and absolve him, chill him to the bone. He dismisses that thought quickly, and sits down on the edge of his bed.

Now that he thinks about it - ejecting the tape from the walkman to flip it to the other side and put it back in - he’s not entirely sure what his subconscious’ original intentions had been when grabbing the telescopic steel baton from the armory. They mostly used these for training sessions, to simulate attacks with blades or other melee weapons, and while these things are painful and can cause plenty of ugly bruises and contusions, they are hardly lethal. He knows this from experience.

Well, he’s got no plans to spar with himself right now, at least not like that.

Venom pushes ‘Play’ on his walkman, pressing the earbuds into his ears and keeping the rest of the world outside. In the beginning there is nothing but static, white noise, and during those minutes he gingerly takes the thick, rubber-coated rod in hand, without extending it, to slick it up with ample amounts of petroleum jelly, silently pondering. He’s never done anything like this… no, that’s not quite right. It’s not something he’d know. It had simply felt natural to keep to himself, and jack himself off at most whenever the mood struck, but even that had often seemed like a chore - as far as memories he considers trustworthy reach into the past, anyway.

He finds it difficult to settle for one particular position that’s both comfortable and accommodating, but eventually he turns onto his stomach, drawing his knees up to it, pushing his own ass up so he has easy access to his dick. He licks over his own lips, the good side of his face resting on a flat pillow. His fingers scoop up some more vaseline to work it around and into his asshole, which is a weird but enticing sensation. His middle-finger probes deeper, and he curiously inserts it up to the second knuckle. It’s a smooth, painless slide, and it sinks into him completely, his bionic hand pulling at an ass cheek.

He starts to look for the sweet spot, wiggling his finger, and his balls tense up when his nail grazes it. He screws his eyes shut and rubs his fingertip over the small bundle of nerves repeatedly, trying to memorize exactly where it is. A low moan slips out of him unbidden, and he turns his head to bury his face a little more in the pillow.

It’s then that the audio recording transitions into the scene from his dreams, though like most dreams he perceives it as if through a heavy, impenetrable fog. The details aren’t clear, words indecipherable murmurs and hushed whispers, their meaning whatever he wants it to be. But there’s a rhythm, a beat, hard and consistent, and that will be his guide.

He spreads his legs, knees denting the mattress, and quickly replaces his finger with the blunt, bottom end of the baton, grimacing when his prosthesis pushes it past the initial resistance, and for a moment he wonders why it hurts at all. But it distracts from the dull ache in his temples, and he sighs to himself, finding the burning, wet friction of the solid object he forces into his ass terribly erotic. No doubt a proper toy would be even better, but the very idea of asking his men or even one of his XOs for advice seems preposterous.

Nothing beats the real thing though, he’s sure, but for now the fake will do. He grip on it remains sturdy, and the rubber coating around the handle prevents him from losing the black rod, as slippery as he’s made it.

“Mmm…”

Following the slow rhythm dictated by the tape, he begins to flick his metallic wrist, translating the noises he hears into motions. He thrusts the rod in and out of his muscular ass, as deep as it’ll go, and although he adjusts his angle and twists the baton with every stroke, he can’t quite figure out how to stimulate his prostate the same way as he’d had before. But that’s alright - his cock twitches to life anyway, and Venom’s dominant hand gravitates towards it automatically, lazily tugging at it and blowing on the fire spreading through his body; his skin soon colored by an attractive flush, glistening with sweat.

His pulse quickens, and as he kneels there panting in this utterly vulnerable, _inviting_ position, he imagines a number of people taking him from behind, all of them blurring together in his mind’s eye: the nameless, faceless guy from earlier - Hawk and Coyote from the Intel team - Ocelot - his own pilot - the Nigerian mercenary he’d trailed and strangled to unconsciousness on yesterday’s mission - Kaz - the anonymous, moribund men that had ganged up on him in the dream. They take turns breeding him, pumping him full of their cum, dumping it all into his ass like it’s a container for it, and he gives a throaty groan whenever he feels another load of hot, overflowing cum trickle down his thighs.

Despite his titillating fantasies, Venom’s arousal doesn’t truly spike until his mind summons and holds onto the phantom of Big Boss, who’s slamming his weight against his ass and fucking him mercilessly. Venom’s breath hitches, his legs begin to quiver uncontrollably. His engorged cock spurts a good helping of clear fluid into his warm palm from the very first thrust, making the slide even easier when he fucks into his tight fist along with, and spurred on, by Big Boss.

“Boss…” Venom murmurs, drooling onto the fabric of his pillow, soon soaked with his own spit. He absentmindedly sucks the wet patch into his mouth and chews on it, swallowing down the lewd noises threatening to worm their way out of his throat. The incoherent, crude sentence fragments float aimlessly through his head instead.

_That’s it, fuck my hungry asshole… fuck me like the stupid worthless bitch I am… gonna cum soon, Boss… all over the sheets… gonna cum so hard, like a pressure hose… all for you… only for you…_

Big Boss isn’t there, of course. He’s doing it all himself, but for a few blissful moments, he’s able to forget that he’s living with a ghost. _Sleeping_ with a ghost. Would Big Boss approve of being his own double’s masturbation fantasy?

He couldn’t care less, this close to the fall he’s yearning for. He’s already standing at the edge, all it takes are a few more steps, a few more thrusts…

Just a few - minutes -

\- but the edge remains where it is, and after a while he realizes that he doesn’t move any closer to it. He’s stuck here, his climax in plain sight but unreachable, the maddening pressure in his gut and balls never reaching its peak.

_Why…?_

He sucks air in harshly through his gritted teeth, molars grinding together. Scrunching up his face, he gives an utterly distressed groan when the background noise cuts out, fading back into static just like Big Boss’s illusory presence. With the beat gone, Venom has trouble maintaining a steady, efficient rhythm. His pace becomes erratic and desperate, and he abruptly shoves the baton into his ass with too much force, trying to beat his own prostate into submission and yanking at his swollen dick at the same time, as if he could draw the climax out of himself like that. He curses under his labored breath, moving even further away from his release.

“Boss…. _Boss…!_ ”

He growls. Then he whimpers. And then he -

**“You actually thought that would work, didn’t you? That’s adorable.”**

\- and then he jumps, reflexively hurling the baton almost at the window, but he manages to redirect his momentum during the beat that his heart skips. The heavy rod bangs against the wall above the headboard instead, ahead of him, before dropping back and bouncing slightly on the mattress, rolling towards him. He can only pray that no one’s heard that and feels compelled to investigate -

\- what was -

\- he looks around in a haste, checking that he’s still alone. There’s nobody there aside from the frozen faces on the photographs. DD gives a soft bark outside, pawing at the door, but Venom ignores it. He redirects his attention to the walkman, finds that the tape’s still running. He picks apart the wires and places the earbuds back into his ears, just in time to hear his own voice speak to him again, on the tail end of a melodic laugh, full of grit.

**“And predictable. Of course I knew what you were gonna do with this, because I know how you tick. It’s only logical, given our rather… unusual relationship. I know all about you, my friend, and way more than you think. Right now you’re longing for an explanation, and I’ll give it to you.”**

His heart is pounding so hard against his ribcage he thinks it might burst out of his chest, sending blood rushing to his ears and making his head feel pleasantly light. He can’t remember that there was another message for him at the end of the tape - but maybe he’s never listened that far, stopping and rewinding instead, or flipping it. It doesn’t matter now. His fingertips press the buds deeper into his head, increasing the volume, and then he carefully takes the walkman into both hands, like it’s precious, watching the cassette play through the transparent plastic. It has a hypnotic, calming quality to it - just like Big Boss’s voice.

**“We all have two hearts beating in our chests. One belongs to the person we have to be, and the other to the person we really are. Big Boss is a meme construct, an accumulation of exaggerated desires, thoughts, rumors, stories, hopes, and responsibilities - a lot of baggage that can crush an ordinary man. It’s not a pleasant role to play, and you know your men are using you as much as you are using them. They want to feel like they still have a purpose in this world, a dream they can chase and achieve together with you. You tell them where to go, what to do, and shoulder all the blame yourself. They’re the guns, but you’re the one who pulls the trigger. It’s easy for them. But who does Big Boss turn to in order to escape from the pressure? …You already know the answer, don’t you?**

**No man is born as a leader, and not everyone has the potential to become one. Very few people do - they’re almost as rare as diamonds. You’ve been managing fine so far, and I’m very proud of you. But on the inside you’re aching to be free. You know it. Your freedom isn’t the autonomy I’ve granted you in leading Diamond Dogs. Your freedom consists of a collar and a leash, a set of arbitrary boundaries imposed by your master which will shape you into a different person. You want someone else to take charge of you, to make the decisions for you. You want to stop having to think so much all the time, trying to make sense of your life.**

**You want to soar in the sky and then be struck down to drown in the ocean, many times over. That is your dream. And there’s only one person in the whole world who can make it a reality.**

**V, you cannot find true release unless I am the one forcing it on you.”**

Everything suddenly makes perfect sense, just like it had when Big Boss’s first message had reached him. He listens to Big Boss’s explanation attentively, eyelids lowered, absorbing every single word. _What I want,_ he thinks, _is what I need_ … Big Boss’s guidance, Big Boss’s hard and steady hand. Big Boss telling him what to do and where to go. Big Boss’s control. He swallows, shivers pleasantly. It’s as if he can feel His breath on his neck…

**“You understand this, right? I know it’s all been very hard on you, and I apologize. We still got time. I’ll give you what you need.**

**I need it, too.”**

His voice sounds marginally softer. There’s a short pause, and V perks up.

**“Lay on your back, and put it in your ass. Don’t touch your dick, no matter what.”**

The next pause is longer. V blinks, belatedly realizes that it’s on purpose, to allow him to act. His mind supplies the only suitable response:

_Yes, Sir._

Big Boss’s orders pull at his limbs like strings do on a puppet. He grabs the baton with his artificial hand and eases himself down on the bed, gets comfortable, spreads his legs wide. Then he breaches his asshole again with the steel rod, still slick and warm. He’s not sure what to do with his other hand, so he idly runs it over his own chest, brushing over his dark nipples, teasing them to stiffness.

He gasps when the weapon is almost completely buried in his ass again, bites down on the tip of his own tongue.

**“Close your eyes.”**

He does.

**“My cock throbs when it enters you, stretches and fills your narrow hole. It’s almost too big. I’m always amazed how well you take it, like you were made just for me… and then I realize that this is a fact. My hands pin your hips to the bed, and then I move my own, pumping my hard cock into your pliable, helpless body. You remember how I fuck, V?”**

V loosens a feeble moan he cannot hear himself, prosthesis   moving on its own accord and repeatedly thrusting  the baton into his own ass in a rhythm that is undeniably Big Boss’s: moderately slow, grueling, near nerve-wracking, but powerful and deep. Every stroke hits his prostate with uncanny precision, making his still erect cock bounce and grow even more solid.

“Hah, B-Boss…” He stammers, as if the man could actually hear him. V swears that he can feel Big Boss’s muscular thighs grinding against his own, leather-clad hands pulling at them sharply to penetrate him even deeper, and a heavy ball sack smacking against his ass cheeks with every plunge. He sees His face shadowing his own, His steely gaze staring him down, locking him into his current position.

**“My pace grows more impatient, because I want to see you come undone before my eyes. It will become harder for you to breathe and focus now. I caress your throat, digging my thumb into your pulse, and I squeeze.”**

V’s hand slides across his pectoral, up to his collarbone, wraps itself around his throat as instructed. He massages his windpipe, feels his frantic, fearful pulse, the rapid thrusts rocking his body. He can hardly even swallow, and saliva runs from the corner of his mouth down to his chin.

He croaks, voice weak and hoarse, “Boss -”

**“Tell me what you are to me, V.”**

“Du - dumb slut, I’m a - dumb… slut…”

**“Correct. A dumb slut with zero agency.”**

V doesn’t have the mental capacities left to wonder how He could predict exactly what he was going to say, his brain cells quite literally being fucked out of him. If he ever had any to begin with.

**“But that’s fine, don’t worry about it… you’re gorgeous as you are.”**

V moans loudly, rolling his eyes in pleasure and panting like a dog, struggling with a collar too tight. His face is burning up, and he clings to Big Boss’s voice.

 **“...Do you feel me, V? How I’m filling the void inside you? The void I have left? The void she has left? This is heaven - it’s pure, unadulterated bliss, the way I violate you. There’s nothing higher than me invading your mind and body and taking control. I’m going to do it again and again and again, and I will make you cum every time...** **_If_ ** **I’m feeling generous enough that day.**

**I will take my sweet time to completely -”**

“Destroy me,” he chokes with the little breath he can afford, and it’s a demand.

**“Destroy you.”**

The words knock all remaining air out of his lungs, and it’s a promise.

V thinks he’s seriously losing his mind, and he almost starts to plead, to scream - but his own hand tightens around his throat to stifle it, the other ramming the rod between his ass cheeks so roughly it feels like something’s tearing, burning so much that tears are stinging in his eyes, still squeezed shut. It’s unbearable, but what’s the point if it doesn’t hurt?

He’s just - _god_ , his ass and his balls are so full, he can’t - he doesn’t think he can take it anymore, he squirms, writhes, floats away and dies a slow, slow death, completely at Big Boss’s mercy. _I wanna cum, let me - Boss, BOSS, I’m gonna cum, gonna cum,_ **_GONNA CUM_ ** _-_

And Big Boss laughs cruelly inside his own head, a staccato sequence of sounds that burns itself into his psyche.

**“Had enough yet? Alright then. Cum like a good bitch, show me your load. Fucking whore.”**

And that, finally, does him in, and V’s body gives and seizes up at the same time. His prostate orgasm hits him like nothing else before, back arching and pushing itself off the mattress. He harshly sucks in the much-needed, cold air to cry out, but stuffs his own hand into his mouth, biting down and drawing blood from himself while his prosthesis claws at the sheets, ripping the fabric. His entire, oversensitive body is _shaking_ from exertion, and rocked by the force of his climax - he spills over his stomach and chest, ruddy cock shooting long ribbons of cum for at least a minute, and even after that it keeps sputtering, pulsing.

When the feeling finally subsides - though his afterglow is pleasant, and makes up for everything - V slumps, collapses on himself, heaving a long, heavy, satisfied sigh.

**“I’m always near you. Don’t forget it. We’re not done yet, not for a long time.”**

V drowsily turns his head to look at the walkman. His eyes are glazed over, and the tape is almost at its end.

**“Good night, V. And sweet dreams.”**

V closes his eyes. He drifts away and dreams of Big Boss.

 


	5. Vapulus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Cause there's a monster living under my bed_  
>  _Whispering in my ear_  
>  _There's an angel, with a hand on my head_  
>  _She say I've got nothing to fear_  
>     
>  _There's a darkness living deep in my soul_  
>  _I still got a purpose to serve_  
>  _So let your light shine, deep into my home_  
>  _God, don't let me lose my nerve_  
>  _Don't let me lose my nerve_
> 
> ~ [Put Your Lights On](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t33f2AObSMI) \- Santana

Venom almost oversleeps that morning, which is fairly untypical for him.

He’s had an unusually peaceful rest, not even haunted by nightmares, and when he wakes up at ten to seven rather than at six, he feels strangely… invigorated. He completely disregards the mild, painful throb in his body, and the traces of blood on his lips, because the headache is gone. Suddenly remembering his duties after blearily blinking and staring at the ceiling for a few more minutes, he drags himself out of bed, gets rid of his mess and quickly dresses in a skintight shirt and BDU slacks, hurrying over to the command center where he’s supposed to brief some recruits and dole out punishments every morning, and make changes to individual schedules as necessary.

Again, he goes through the motions, physically awake but mentally clinging to last night’s experience, rewinding his own record of it time and again. He’s at the point where he cums when he finally snaps out of it, and only because it’s Kaz stopping and quietly asking him, “What happened to your hand? Are those… bite marks?”

Venom freezes up. Kaz is standing close, as he often does when they talk - it’s one part his bad eyesight, and one part seeking out Big Boss’s proximity, and with it his strength; Venom figures it makes him feel more secure. And a little more in control, perhaps.

“Oh,” Venom acknowledges, raising his blood caked hand, eyeing the wound he’s given himself at the height of climax. Kaz probably can’t tell the difference between a human and an animal bite, not even this close.

“It’s nothing. DD got a little too excited during a mock scuffle earlier, mistook my hand for the pillow,” he lies easily, twisting the truth, and shrugs it off. “Haven’t taken care of it yet.”

“That doesn’t sound like him,” Kaz says, doubtfully. His expression behind the dark-tinted lenses of his aviators is unreadable. “He hasn’t bitten you once since you brought him in.”

“You know accidents happen when things get heated. Anyway, I’ll be back in an hour - clean up and grab a bite to eat.”

With that Venom unmistakably drops the subject by leaving the office and Kaz to his paperwork, who just stares after him, dumbfounded.

***

Returning to his room, Venom pauses in the hallway as soon as he notices that the door’s ajar. Either he accidentally forgot to close it behind himself, or someone entered on their own volition - and without his permission. Truthfully, he doesn’t usually lock his door because he doesn’t think any of his men would go that far…

(Even then, he doesn’t normally ascribe much importance to such little, easily ignorable details at his own _home_ , but after last night he’s understandably paranoid in regards to the happenings on base.)

He’s immediately on guard when he carefully pushes the door open, especially given the secrets he’s storing in there, but breathes a sigh of relief when he spots the intruder, who turns out to be four-legged and decidedly furry.

“DD,” Venom says, flatly, as he steps into the room. The dog’s lying near the window, tail swishing from left to right and back. Come to think of it, he’s retroactively surprised that he didn’t encounter DD this morning when leaving his room - or had he just not noticed him? He remembers last night with uncanny clarity, but the entire morning’s sort of a blur up until Kaz talked to him, like he’d still been half-asleep -

Venom furrows his brow when DD doesn’t react to his name, and only now does he take a closer look, notices that DD is chewing on something… black and perhaps plastic judging by the crunching noises, giving a low growl. Dread settles at the pit of his stomach and he promptly scans the rest of his room; the baton’s still on the mattress where he left it, but he needs to step around the bed to find the walkman, which is on the floor, partly broken. He crouches down to inspect it. The cassette deck’s opened and empty, and there’s something with the consistency of saliva sticking to the material, some traces of which Venom rubs between his index finger and thumb. He stares at them, takes a deep breath.

DD’s snout pokes into his side then, and the dog flops down on his rear. Black, tangled tape is sticking out between rows of teeth, and when he opens his mouth pieces of slobber-coated plastic drop from his tongue onto the floor into an unsalvageable mess; a torn label only reading _‘Dreams’_ now stands out and commands Venom’s attention for a split second, before its back with DD. The dog gives a brief bark, panting and wagging his tail excitedly, like he’s expecting praise for a job well done.

Venom doesn’t know what to say. He’s not even sure what he feels in this precise moment. Trying to sort out his emotions his gaze drops back down to the ruined cassette tape again, Big Boss’s gift to him, containing the message that had granted him direction, release, and a good night’s sleep -

\- and now it’s just -

\- a wet black void, broken pieces drifting like -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\- there’s a howl, high pitched and shrill. Venom opens his eyes, blinking rapidly, just in time to see DD bolting out the door, letting out another long-winded whine that grows more distant as he scurries down the corridor.

“DD!” Venom calls and gets up to his feet, half-heartedly reaching for him, but he’s already gone, beset by a strange animal panic that’s so unlike his canine buddy - what just happened? He suspect he’s been spacing out for a bit, but…

He spots the blood on his throbbing hand, still his own dried up on the skin, but some of it appears and smells fresh, smeared across his knuckles.

He pales, and it feels like someone emptied a bucket of ice water over his head when he realizes, truly _realizes_ , how he must have just lost control over himself to the point of not even remembering it; his subconscious trying to block it out. But for once, the evidence is there and doesn’t fail him. He curses under his breath, _that’s not what Big Boss would have d-_

Venom collects the pile of plastic pieces and goes outside to toss them into the sea.

***

DD doesn’t come to sleep in his room anymore, and Venom doesn’t ask for him as a companion for the few routine missions he takes on, often carrying them out alone and without any kind of support. He knows he could try and start to mend what’s broken with an apology, but he assumes that things will work themselves out, that he will somehow work _himself_ and his strangely aggressive apathy out if he spends some more time by himself - at least that way he can’t hurt anybody else unintentionally.

So he starts to retreat to his quarters more often, and earlier, without even having to fake the exhaustion. The men fortunately cut him some slack there, probably assuming that he’s burned out, though it’s only a matter of time until one of his XOs will ask him about it and probably send him to medical pro forma for a check-up. That’ll be an opportunity to smuggle out some sleeping pills or other interesting substances, anyhow; the men do it all the time, he knows, having a good time among themselves, getting high via booze mixed with a couple hundred grams of marijuana and sometimes even cocaine, but how that always finds its way onto base, no one ever seems to know.

Venom doesn’t care, himself. They’re all bored out of their minds, making for more people than job offers and sensible duties. Doing things he can’t do himself, because he’s Big Boss. Watching the calming smoke from his electronic cigar trail towards the ceiling, he wonders how long it’ll take until there’s some sort of incident again that’ll require his intervention, or if they know better at this point.

He spends his evenings, if he’s not working out to make himself tired enough to fall asleep quickly, laying half-naked in bed and either listening to music or, like in this case, the rain battering relentlessly against the struts and their windows. They’ve really been plagued by an unusual amount of thunderstorms lately, and he knows only one person who would’ve been happy about this kind of weather. Venom thinks he understands - the constant drum is much better than the silence, in any case. He doesn’t have anything to say, and especially not to himself.

He’s given up trying to masturbate, too. There’s no point, and he’s come to realize that he can’t finish without Big Boss being present in some way, but his master hasn’t attempted to contact him for months now, at least not to his knowledge. Perhaps he never will again, perhaps he’s cut him loose for good now, lost all interest despite what the message had said. Venom considers the bleak, mind-numbing future ahead of him - more of the same, without ever reaching completion - and instead looks into the past, hoping to find anything to fill the blanks with. The recent scars he spots on his hand when he places the cigar back between his lips remind him of how many others he has, and the stories that must be behind them.

He remembers the last few seconds of his old life, how he jumped in front of another man he knows to be Big Boss to take his place, his face burned by the explosion, unrecognizable and forgotten from there on out. In all the memories before that - when they were still MSF - he watches himself in third person, watches Big Boss go about his day and fight his battles and interact with his men, but whenever he looks into a reflective surface, he also sees Big Boss, and there’s always Bowie’s _The Man Who Sold The World_ and his _Diamond Dogs_ album playing in the background -

( _”- really don’t know how to pace yourself, do you, Boss? Let me take care of -”_ )

( _”- don’t understand what you even see in him. You know he’s going to -”_ )

( _”- show me everything, it’s my duty to remain silent no matter what -”_ )

He rewinds even further, until the images fade out altogether and there’s only voices, interspersed by static. He recognizes the most prominent one as The Boss’s, his late mentor, teaching him her last lesson during one fateful mission. Betrayal, loyalty, and sacrifice, all for a higher cause. _Finish your mission._ She has so much more to say to him in his memories than the AI pod over at intel has, as if the machine could sense that he is as much a fake and an imitation as she is.

Beyond that - beyond Operation Snake Eater - there is a void, no sound, no pictures. His implanted memories don’t seem to cover Big Boss’s youth, which remains uncharted territory for him, the beginnings of an unfinished life that he knows must be there, while his own has been erased entirely.

The only thing he clearly remembers and feels is never-ending _pain_ , the same one that’s blossoming in his head again, the same one that makes his scars itch and burn.

And then, he figures, what if that’s all he ever had to fill the blanks, the cracks in his existence? If there’s only pain to remind him that he’s still alive at all - that he can feel something, and that’s how pain becomes joy, becomes intoxicating pleasure; just like Big Boss said. He wants to stop trying to make sense of his life, and to stop trying to make it into something wholesome, something hurtless. It will never be any of these things.

_It’s all I have to remind me I exist here. I know how you feel._

Venom rolls onto his side to put down his cigar, and pulls open the drawer of his nightstand, where he’s stored both a loaded pistol and the baton. He grabs the latter, and walks over to his desk, checking another drawer for an unopened bottle of whisky one of his men had surreptitiously handed him on his last (fake? He doesn’t know) birthday, telling him to have a little fun once in a while.

He downs at least one third of the bottle without setting it down, catching his own reflection in the dark window framed by the photographs, raindrops running down the surface on the other side, kept outside along with the waves and the cold. The warmth of the alcohol begins to settle and spread in his belly, becoming a pleasant, encouraging glow. He swings the baton forwards, one sharp thrust, and it extends automatically, its tip almost hitting the wall. Leaning his own weight against the desk, he keeps his gaze trained on his mirror image while he runs the cold steel tentatively over the stump of his ruined arm, the prosthesis and its harness already stored away in a container next to his bed for the night.

He taps he baton gently and repeatedly against his arm and shoulder at first. He counts inwardly to three, then attempts to hit himself with enough force to bruise himself around the ribs, which isn’t so easy when you’re doing it yourself like this. He grunts, squeezes his eye shut and opens it again. There’s barely even a mark, and then he looks at his own face. The light inside flickers briefly, and Venom’s breath catches in his throat. He swallows.

It’s Big Boss looking back at him, wearing the same frustrated expression, and the only thing Venom can hear him say is _do it yourself_.

So he does, sinking to his knees and lifting the baton over his head to ungracefully strike at his back and shoulders until it hurts enough to feel.

***

“It seems like DD’s been avoiding you lately. Do you know if there’s any reason for that, Boss?”

“…Huh?”

The question catches Venom completely off-guard when he’s sitting in Ocelot’s office again the next day, assuming its for a briefing, as usual. Now Ocelot’s seated in front of him, hands folded on the desk and looking at him like a concerned parent.

“He’s sleeping in my bed again. He hasn’t done that since he was a pup, you know.”

Venom opens his mouth to say something, but Ocelot goes on, “Kaz told me he’s bitten you. I don’t think that’s supposed to happen, even if you’re just playing. I trained him too well for that. Is there something you’re not - ”

“Alright,” Venom relents, sighing. The next lie comes distressingly easy, just like the first. “We weren’t playing. I stepped on his tail that morning when I got up, distracted and a little beside myself. He just reacted naturally like he would in the field, and lashed out. It was a misunderstanding we just haven’t sorted out yet.”

Ocelot raises both eyebrows at him. “Well, it’s difficult to have any deep conversation with an animal,” he says. “You just need to be gentle with him. I’m sure he’ll understand, then, that it’s already forgiven. He’s very sensible. Perceptive, too.”

“Mrrn,” Venom grunts. It’s not that he doesn’t feel sorry, he’s just been too preoccupied with himself and his own problems lately, which he knows is selfish. He’s not allowed to be selfish. Everyone else is, but not him, which isn’t very -

“What about you?” Ocelot asks, interrupting his train of thought.

“What about me?”

“You’re ‘beside yourself’. Care to explain?”

“It’s just…” He trails off, unsure how to _explain_ himself without giving anything away, and he can’t think of another lie that fast. Ocelot doesn’t say anything else, instead, Venom hears his chair scrape against the floor when he pushes his it back, gets up, and walks to Venom’s back. He flinches automatically when he feels Ocelot’s gloved hands on his shoulders.

“What’s wrong? You’re tense.” He doesn’t remove his hands - starts to massage his shoulders and back in circular motions, and Venom tries his damnedest not to squirm, because this is anything but relaxing. It’s the exact opposite, his back still sore and aching from last night’s masochistic efforts.

“Too much work, or too little? Talk to me, Boss. If I don’t make sure you’re in top condition physically and _mentally_ , who else will? It’s important to maintain a balance in all things.”

Venom bites down on his bottom lip, swallowing down the sarcastic remark that pops into his head - _for being so damn concerned about me you sure have no idea about what’s really going on_ \- and begrudgingly tolerates Ocelot touching him. Something about this feels wrong, pain aside, and he still doesn’t know what kind of answer to give.

“…Is there anything you need?” Ocelot tries again, after a minute, his hands more-or-less soothingly rubbing over Venom’s shoulder blades. “Anything at all? You know you can trust me, right? Doesn’t matter what it is. I’d rather not presume, but…”

Before long, his thumbs are joined together at the back of his neck, fingers gently laying themselves on his throat, and Venom reconsiders again just how much he possibly knows. Despite everything it’s easy to forget that this man is a professional sadist sometimes, as well as one of Big Boss’s most trusted allies, given he’s never had anything to do with Ocelot himself before all this.

He lets this go on for another moment, Ocelot’s fingers digging into his jugular vein, and then he shakes him off, pulls his seat away from him. He looks at him over his shoulder.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed with another round of sparring with the men,” he gruffs, denying Ocelot a conclusive answer. “I already told you. It’s too peaceful - if you wanna do me a favor, try to get jobs that pose a bit more of a challenge.”

“…Challenges for you? Easier said than done,” Ocelot replies, returning to his own seat, indifferent despite the rejection. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good,” Venom snaps, a little sharper than he’d intended, and leaves.

***

Wrong, wrong, wrong. That had been all wrong. Ocelot could have spelled it out clearly for him - _I’m offering you a torture session free of charge and maybe a round of sex, too_ \- and it still would have been wrong. It can’t be Ocelot. He’d get nothing out of doing any of these things with Ocelot. He’d be a poor substitute for the one man that can grant him any sort of satisfaction.

(And wouldn’t that be like betrayal, too?)

The next time Ocelot touches him like that, he can’t guarantee for anything.

“Wrong!” Venom barks, slamming another recruit into the ground. They’re lining up for his treatment this afternoon, starting once the rain had stopped, charging at him one after the other and barely standing a chance. Sometimes he’ll encourage two or three of them to come at him simultaneously, and the result is still the same. All wrong, weak, not enough. Sloppy techniques. No challenge. The pain in his back is barely noticeable anymore.

Perhaps it’s because he’s too distracted by his own sour thoughts that the next soldier manages to land a lucky hit, countering his own counter, and flooring him with astonishing precision. Venom’s face meets the rain-slick concrete before he can fully process what’s happened, and an awe-stricken murmur goes through the crowd of recruits.

“Not bad,” he acknowledges, and pushes himself back up. This happens once in a while, when they’ve been at this for some time, but they never get lucky twice, not least because they feel cocky and over-confident once they’ve managed to land a blow. He immediately launches himself at the recruit with all he’s got, giving him no prior warning at all that they are continuing.

Venom’s attack is deflected ( _how?_ ), and he is floored again, harder this time, his back crashing against the ground so brutally that the pain flares up again and he forgets to breathe. There’s another murmur, slightly more nervous this time.

 _This is **WRONG**_ , Venom’s mind screams and protests, and he’s about scramble to his feet to blindly charge at him again in a fit of indignant anger, when -

“Alright, boys, that’s enough for today. The Boss is evidently getting tired.”

\- Ocelot.

The recruits salute properly, and Venom focuses on the one who’s downed him _twice_ , only catching his steely gaze for a split second, and then his broad back as he marches off with the others, wordlessly.

“Found your challenge before I did?” Ocelot asks, standing next to and extending a hand to him to help him off the wet ground. Venom takes it, belatedly.

“Who was that?” He honestly speaks his thoughts for once, though he’s not sure how honest Ocelot’s reply is, after everything.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. It _is_ pretty hard to differentiate them, balaclavas and all. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it. He got lucky, and it’s like you said - you’re a little beside yourself.”

“…Yeah,” Venom murmurs, wiping over his face and catching a trail of blood running down the side of his face. It’s the most plausible explanation.

“I’m beside myself.”


	6. Vultus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I hate feeling like this_   
>  _I'm so tired of trying to fight this_   
>  _I'm asleep and all I dream of_
> 
> _Is waking to you_  
>  _Tell me that you will listen_  
>  _Your touch is what I'm missing_  
>  _And the more I hide I realize I'm slowly losing you_
> 
> _Comatose_  
>  _I'll never wake up without an overdose of you_
> 
> ~ [Comatose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZNCrLV8W_M) \- Skillet

His feet touch the wet ground of the helipad on the upper deck of the medical platform around half past midnight, when the searchlights have been switched on and there’s few personnel making the rounds. A single man welcomes his boss home when he returns from a successful sabotage mission at a competitor’s base, saluting him briskly, drenched from head to toe with his uniform sticking to his clammy skin. Venom hears him sneeze when he passes him, makes his way through the storm and towards the metal staircase. He’ll probably skip both the treatment of a superficial cut and the debriefing and head straight for his quarters, which means he’s still got to cross the connecting bridge to the command platform.

 _What’s with this weather,_ he thinks, pausing to idly pull out his iDroid and checking if there’s any updates from the support team. Nothing. He looks towards the pitch black horizon and the restless waves, rain lashing at his face and taking any lingering traces of blood with it. The cold seeps into his own flesh and bones. The persistent rain is starting to rub off on him, makes him feel miserable - or just _more_ miserable. He chuckles to himself, wryly, experiencing a sense of déjà vu as he navigates through his library to turn off the music he’d kept running in the background (” _\- don’t worry that it’s not good enough for anyone else to hear, just -_ “). Now if only she was still here to quietly smile at him and lift his spirits, maybe he -

 _It’s not all bad._  
_You can find happiness anywhere,_  
_even when it hurts, even if it doesn’t last._  
_Even when you forget what the sun looks like._  
_Treasure the simple things._  
_Life is worth living._  
_Remember._

\- he hears ecstatic barking. Venom pockets the iDroid again, wipes over his forehead and soggy eyepatch, takes a few more steps until he can put his hand on the steel guard railing, and oversee the rest of the platform. He squints, spots Ocelot and DD on the lower deck, doing - what, exactly?

“I am not letting you back into my room like that! I changed the sheets just today!”

Nothing productive, though maybe that shouldn’t surprise him at this hour. DD’s keeps barking excitedly, running in circles, throws himself onto the ground to roll around in a puddle. He wags his bushy tail and jumps into another one just when Ocelot’s about to leave, seemingly only to get him even more wet and groan in exasperation, shouting something about how he’s still not outgrown his puppy phase, it seems. There’s a laugh in it.

It goes on for a while, and Venom watches, silently. His tight grip around the railing becomes a little more lax, even as he considers the recent incident for the umpteenth time. He still hasn’t figured out why DD had to willfully destroy a cassette tape, and that one in particular. If anything’s not like him, it’s that.

_It’s difficult to have any deep conversation with an animal, but…_

_He’s very sensible. Perceptive, too._

It’s then that DD stops mid-play, turning to look into his direction. He pauses a moment, and then he gives another bark, recognizing him. When alerted to Venom’s presence, Ocelot acknowledges his return with a small wave of his hand. Venom nods curtly. Perhaps now is the right time to reconnect with DD, while he’s in a good, playful mood and with Ocelot there, who he still trusts. That’s worth sitting through the debriefing, too.

He begins to descend the stairs, and then he hears something _snap_. He halts, turns around. At first he thinks it was just the harsh gust knocking something over, but now that his attention is torn away from the two individuals on the lower deck he somehow can’t shake the feeling of being watched himself. Sure, it could be just the guy from earlier, but he’s not taking any chances anymore. Nothing’s quite the way it should be lately, prompting him to be constantly on edge, and not in a healthy way.

He changes course and rounds the nearest corner, and on a large pipe facing towards the ocean, he finds a poster that’s flapping lightly in the wind. Venom grunts, takes a closer look, and discovers its another one of _those_ \- some lighting in the distance momentarily illuminates Big Boss’s large, intimidating visage staring at him, but it’s contorted, the colors faded out and the material weathered like an old photograph, evidence that it’s been here for some time.

Thunder rolls immediately afterwards, heart of the storm getting closer to home.

Venom reaches for one of the poster’s edges and tears it off completely, corners of his mouth curling downwards. He ordered his men to take all of these down months, no, _years_ ago; what is this still doing here? It’s not the first one, either. They’re not fostering a sense of security among the men, all they are good for is fearmongering. Making them lose their trust in each other and their bosses. Maybe someone thinks they’re being funny by putting them back up again.

(And how come he seems to be the only one who comes across them and actually bothers to take them down?)

He’s not amused, anyhow. Venom crumples the poster up in his hands and tosses it over the railing into the water, then he heads straight for his room, locking the door behind himself, too unnerved and tired to deal with anything else tonight.

***

_You’re crossing a suspension bridge._

He knows he’s dreaming the moment he opens his eyes, both of them, but it’s not his dream - he is just the dreamer, staring blearily down at his hands, healthy and whole as well. A gun is firmly clasped between them. Water flows, a steady and strong current, far below. The air is hot and humid, and a gentle breeze blows. He breathes in, smells the jungle. He is wearing an olive drab battle dress uniform to blend in better with his surroundings.

He blinks once, and his vision clears. A blue morpho butterfly is sitting on the barrel of the handgun, and his gaze lifts as it starts to flap its tiny, shimmery wings reflecting the sunlight. It starts to soar. His eyes track its erratic movement, but lose it the moment they find the face of the man standing right in front of him.

_The bridge is wide enough for only one person to pass at a time._

“Boss,” he just says, voice already cracking as the severity of the situation starts to sink in. Big Boss looks at him with a stony expression, a bandana tied around his forehead and clad in a black sneaking suit, Soviet issue. Placed down on the shaky wooden bridge, at either side on him, are two Davy Crocketts; all three of them completely blocking the narrow path with their bulk.

They’re at an impasse, here at this rift. Neither of them can turn back, and they cannot go together. He knows what he has to do.

Slowly, carefully, he turns the gun around in his hands. The safety is already off. Holding onto the muzzle, he presents the grip to his counterpart. Big Boss wordlessly takes it from him, crooks the finger around the trigger, and lifts it to his head, aims at his right eye.

_One must die and one must live._

A minute passes between them. Staring straight down the barrel, his eyelids are about to drift shut, waiting for the end and a quick, merciful death, sparing him the pain.

It never comes.

“No,” Big Boss says, finally. The safety clicks back on, and he shoves the gun into the empty holster at his thigh. “That would be wasting a bullet.”

He doesn’t understand.

“Boss?”

“You do it,” He demands, waves coolly at the river underneath their feet, running its course between the jagged cliffs.

“Jump. Drift away.”

“But…”

“ _Jump,_ ” Big Boss repeats, eye and voice harder. The order isn’t questioned.

He jumps - throws himself off the bridge, lets himself fall, keeping himself awake the whole way down clinging instinctively to Big Boss’s face, His dark shadow watching his descent from his elevated position on the bridge. The distance between them keeps growing until he loses consciousness, but he can’t remember the impact when his back met the water, split on the rocks.

But he remembers suffocating, the sensation of floating, and Big Boss’s distinctive face being the last thing on his mind.

**_I’ll meet you downstream, on the other side._ **

***

He wakes from the dream in the middle of the night and to the familiar feeling of being watched, but it’s closer now, too close for comfort. Consciousness comes trickling back and he blinks awake, inhaling the air hungrily like he’s been deprived of it for a long time. It smells both sterile and sweet, and the harsh, white light blinds him, making it hard to concentrate on any details.

 _Hospital?_ Venom’s mushy mind supplies, holding onto the earliest conscious memory of his current life. He’s resting in a bed, and as he sluggishly blinks the moisture out of his eyes the dark silhouette of a person above becomes more apparent, looming over him like a sentinel.

He can’t make out the face clearly, features blurred together or non-existant, and overcast by shadow.

 _Is it you?_ He wonders privately, his voice failing him, _Ishmael?_

But his mournful reverie fades the moment he stirs, expecting his own body to disobey him. It doesn’t; he can move his hand, his head. He blinks again, and the room becomes his own, the face staring down on him one concealed by the black fabric of a balaclava. Memory and reality untangle violently, and that’s when Venom’s fight or flight instinct kicks in, _I locked the fucking door, didn’t I?!_

He jumps straight out of bed, hurls his own bulk at his nightly ‘visitor’ to knock him to the ground with a one-armed throw, but it doesn’t work out as planned. Just like the other day his attack is parried expertly before it can be fully executed, in a way he wouldn’t expect any of his men to be capable of when their boss is not messing around, and he doesn’t consider the missing prosthetic a handicap. He finds himself driven back and bouncing on the squealing mattress within a split second, and this time, without Ocelot there to interfere, he can retaliate in earnest. Utilizing all of his inherited strength and skill, because whatever this is it’s wrong, just _wrong_ -

With a feral growl, Venom does his own name justice and viciously barrels into the other man, all force and instinct, with little technique. His opponent apparently didn’t expect that, his hands raised defensively for a counter that’s pointless when he’s simply shoved into the wall at his back, next to the closed door; Venom gripping his shoulder tightly to make it difficult for him to shake his attacker off. He pins him there like a cornered animal, taking advantage of the one second he’s disoriented, pressing his arm against his throat to restrict his breath and drain the fight from him.

But it’s drained from him first, when he stops baring his teeth and flaring his nostrils, his irate expression solidifying into one of wide-eyed shock when he stares into a pair of callous, disparate eyes, blue like the sea and scarred white like _\- this is -_

_\- wr… -_

_\- ight…_

Venom sharply inhales, and reluctantly cedes the upper hand by letting go and quickly pulling the balaclava off the man’s head.

He stumbles back as if he’s been burned, panic welling up inside him rather than relief when his suspicions are confirmed - the man in his room is _Big Boss_ , and he keeps staring at him, checking his face over and over again, looking for discrepancies, but there are none. He looks exactly like he remembers him. Looks exactly like himself, minus the shrapnel and surgery scars. Even his height seems to match.

Big Boss says nothing, just lifts a hand to examine and rub over his own throat, making a soft, disparaging noise.

Venom’s mind goes into overdrive, and his voice follows.

“Why are you here, you shouldn’t be here,” he utters disbelievingly, short on breath. “This is too dangerous. We can’t meet here. Your cover will be blown - it’s gonna expose us both, if anyone sees you - you need to leave, Boss.” He grabs Big Boss’s forearm, tries to drag him towards the door, still talking, still distressed and not getting enough oxygen, for some reason. Big Boss just grunts.

“You need to leave right now. It’s not safe, you need to go, you need to - “

Big Boss strikes him across the face, hard enough to bust his lip, make him taste copper again. He swerves, has trouble finding his center of gravity again, but remains standing just so.

“Breathe,” Big Boss commands, gruffly. Venom nods hesitantly, realizes that between his instinctual panic and Big Boss’s sudden stifling presence, he’s begun to hyperventilate.

He closes his eyes for a moment, attempts to collect himself.

“Yes. Sorry.” _This isn’t like me. He has his reasons, it’ll make sense. I don’t need to worry._

“Didn’t you want me to be here?” Venom doesn’t ask how He knows that, but feels caught anyway.

“I…”

“But I’m not here just for you. All of this is my property. I should make sure that it’s being run and treated correctly, once in a while.”

“How long…” Venom begins, _how, how long, who else knows,_ but Big Boss cuts him off with a lazy, two-fingered gesture.

“Should that be your main concern, right now?” He tuts, mildly condescending. “Because I don’t think so, V.”

 _V._ Just hearing his true name being spoken like that by the man who must have given it to him feels like a blessing, feels liberating. _V. Not Boss._ The panic subsides, makes finally room for relief. Big Boss is right. He doesn’t need to concern himself with these things right now, and it’s not his place to ask questions. It is how it is. He licks over his bottom lip, pokes the wound with his tongue. It hurts.

Big Boss affectionately pats his cheek when he understands, _good,_ and advances into the direction of the only chair in the room, the one at the desk. Venom moves reflexively, gets there first, pulls the chair out and towards him so he can sit. He doesn’t remain idle after that, searching through one of the desk’s drawers, the one where his impressive stash of cigars is because he doesn’t care much for the taste of the real thing. He takes one, offers it to Big Boss, and lights it for Him.

That’s all he has to do, isn’t it. Serving Him efficiently, without even having to ask what it is that He wants because he _knows_ it, because he is Big Boss when the real one isn’t here.

“These are nice,” Big Boss says, watching the smoke unfurl and rolling the cigar between His fingers, savoring the taste. V looks at Him longingly, _entranced,_ subconsciously notes that he’s towering above Him in their current constellation, and an invisible weight drops onto his shoulders and pulls at his legs, but it’s not unpleasant. He sinks down to his knees right where he stands, to correct his own position in relation to Big Boss’s.

Like a slave to his Master.

It’s all so overwhelming during those first few moments of their reunion that his rational and conscious thinking shuts off altogether. He doesn’t think about anything - stoically _forces_ himself not to think about anything; doesn’t produce, only receives. The familiar-missed smell of Big Boss’s cigars, the orders and praise colored by the enticing baritone of His voice.

He drinks it all in.

Big Boss crosses one leg over the other, considering V and smoking the cigar in peace and silence. His gentle puffs and the pouring, muffled rain outside are the only noises, for a minute or two.

“I’ll be here for a while,” He says eventually, placing His foot back on the ground. He gestures towards His own thigh, and V understands. He crawls closer, rests the side of his face on it, feels Big Boss’s rough hand on his head and the hot, glowing ember of the cigar near his ear.

“You needn’t worry about the details. I’ve taken care of everything.” Still in control. V breathes calmly, eye wide open. “Better now?” Big Boss asks him from above, gently, fingers threading through his damp hair. He massages that one point behind his shrapnel, around his right temple.

“Yes Sir,” he says. His pulse has returned to a normal rhythm, one that makes it easier to protect his fragile sanity, hanging on by a thread.

“Mmm,” Big Boss hums. “You know what you should worry about?”

He remains silent. Big Boss’s fingers, the cigar still trapped between them, sneak down to his cheek and push his chin up tenderly, commanding his gaze.

“I hear your,” He starts, keeps their eyes locked while He reaches for something on the desk, and V notes out of his peripheral that it’s the retracted baton. “Performance hasn’t been up to snuff lately. Low tally of completed missions, a drop in morale and discipline among the men, failure to maintain trusting relationships with your XOs…”

He places the cold steel rod against V’s cheek, while His fingers ghost over the other, ash dropping from the tip of the cigar and leaving a hot trail in its wake. He shivers, averts his gaze in shame, but Big Boss jerks him back.

“On top of that, you’re letting yourself be smacked around by your own recruits, in front of everyone. Do any of those things sound like Big Boss?”

V shakes his head, weakly.

“That’s right, it doesn’t. Big Boss wouldn’t act like that unless he’s not at peace with himself. So tell me then, V,” Big Boss goes on, and the pad of His thumb presses against his split bottom lip, pulls it down. “What’s on your mind? What is it that you’re missing?”

He knows it, but he hasn’t dared to speak to anyone about it - what he needs, he’s kept it all to himself. Now Big Boss explicitly asks him to say it, and the promise that demand holds is exhilarating. V parts his lips a little as he speaks, allows Big Boss thumb to dip right in, and he’s trapped between his hands and lap and the cigar and the baton and it’s almost too much.

“Being fucked,” he says, running his tongue lasciviously over the finger in his mouth before speaking again, “I wanna give in and get fucked. I want _you_ to fuck and wreck me, I want -”

“You sound like a little whore,” Big Boss comments, thrusting his thumb so deep that it cuts off V’s words, who greedily sucks Him in, not even giving a damn about the burning sensation near his only remaining eye; Big Boss could grind His cigar out on his eyeball and he wouldn’t care.

“Is that what you are? A good-for-nothing whore, ready to spread your legs? That’s not who Big Boss is, either.”

“I know -” He murmurs, followed by a slurping noise.

“I’ll fuck you when I feel like it, V.”

“Hhnn - you made me this - way - like a -”

_Parasite._

“Did I?” He snorts. “You’re not Big Boss right now, are you? You’re just Big Boss’s slut. That’s your peace.”

Big Boss abruptly removes both of his hands, drawing a whine from V - he expects to be hit, to be burnt, but neither happens. What happens is that Big Boss sets the baton aside, unbuckles his belt, and pulls down the zipper of his pants. V’s gaze is riveted to his pelvis, and he starts to salivate like a dog when Big Boss takes out His flaccid cock, his own pants becoming tighter, his nipples more erect.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He strokes himself once, twice, with fingers partially covered in V’s spit. A slick slide. “You think you’ve earned it? Answer honestly.”

“…No Sir,” V admits. He still wants it, selfish and greedy as he’s been lately. Wants it in his mouth, hard and musky, leaking Big Boss’s precum down his throat.

“I didn’t earn it.”

“Precisely,” Big Boss says, sticks the cigar between His teeth, and begins to leisurely fist Himself, with V’s face only inches away from His growing dick. Slides the foreskin back and forth, twists His wrist a little every time, makes sure to rub along the thick, sensitive veins with each pump. He shoves His hips forward, intentionally providing V with an obscene and terribly alluring view.

“So I guess I have to do it myself…”

V can’t hold in the pitiful whimper when Big Boss continues to masturbate right in front of His willing subordinate, punishing him with denial rather than blows. V feels like he’s about to lose his mind for real the longer it goes on, heel of his palm sneakily rubbing over his own bulge only to receive a discouraging kick in the ribs. He’s not above begging, but that’s not like Big Boss either, and it wouldn’t get him anywhere -

He hears Big Boss’s dark, self-indulgent laugh, and he looks up, the creases in His face illuminated by the lit tip of the cigar, burnt down halfway. Ash drops onto V’s face. It doesn’t bother him.

“Like a beaten dog,” He says, a strange glint in his eye.

“I’m not that heartless. You’ll do better now that I’m around, right? Come here.”

“I will,” V promises, and promptly shifts closer. Big Boss shakes His head when he’s about to place his hand on His knee.

“No hands,” He tells him. “Just your mouth. Slowly. You’ll get a taste.”

“Thank you, Boss,” V sighs, content. Big Boss’s hand stops at the base of His prick, and V opens his mouth, leans forward, presses his tongue against the ridge of His dick, lewdly runs it all the way up to the cockhead, meeting and licking up the dribble of precum. He savors it, swallows it, moans wantonly when he wraps his lips around the glans. He begins to suck until his cheeks hollow out, tip of his tongue poking and rubbing over the slit to coax out more, _more…_

“Good?”

“Best,” V murmurs, _slurs_ like a man intoxicated, playfully flicking his tongue against the head to catch it all, placing little kisses to the sensitive flesh when Big Boss picks up the pace again, pumping the full length of His cock.

“Want more?” He asks.

“Everything you got.”

He chuckles, almost warm. Mellow. Pleased, perhaps. “Alright,” He says, and leans forward so He can grasp V’s scalp, hold him steady. V opens his mouth wide and sticks out his tongue without having to be told, deeply inhaling Big Boss’s smokey scent. His cockhead grazes V’s tongue and lips with every stroke, squeezing out more of its juice. His hand starts to move faster, urgently; and when Big Boss gives a grunt that drags on into a strangled groan, it’s V that moans with abandon when the first string of hot semen hits the roof of his mouth.

He watches Big Boss’s expression until another spurt forces him to shut his eye. Most of his abundant cum ends up on his tongue or in his mouth, but a fair amount misses its mark (does it?) and sticks to his cheeks or facial hair instead. He swallows everything he catches, mentally reduces himself to nothing more than an orifice for Big Boss to dump His cum in for as long as it lasts.

“Good boy,” Big Boss praises him, shoves His hand forward one last time, a final shot of cum hitting his nose, before He wipes the tip of His cock clean on his tongue.

“Gorgeous,” He adds when he takes in the extent of His mess, and tucks Himself in. V’s tongue luxuriously licks over his own lips, then he closes his mouth.

“But that’s all you get from me.”

“That’s fine, Sir.” It’s not enough to quench his thirst and sate his need, but it’ll do for now, until he’s earned His benignity again. He feels thoroughly used and degraded and yet _cherished_ , anyway. “I understand.”

“You do, huh?” Big Boss zips back up, fastens His belt. He takes the baton again when He stands up, weighing it in His hand.

V hisses and is dragged back down from his high when the cigar butt is being ground out in his nape - he slumps forward, supporting his own weight on the now empty but still warm seat.

“Did you do this?” Big Boss asks, and V’s not sure what He means. He looks over his shoulder, follows His gaze, which is on his naked back. Examining the bruises that haven’t fully faded yet. He thinks about it.

“I asked you something,” Big Boss forces an answer, hits the back of his head.

“Yes.”

“You won’t do it again.”

“…”

Big Boss hits him a second time, aiming for the ear. He grunts, and the words tumble from his mouth.

“I won’t do it again.”

“Good. You’ll pay a visit to medical once you find the time. Now,” He decides to keep the baton, walks towards the door, picks the discarded balaclava back up. “You clean up, and go back to sleep. You’ll be up at your usual time and carry out your duties responsibly.”

“Understood, Boss.”

V waits until the door closes behind him, and he heaves a sigh when all tension leaves his body. He almost falls over onto his side, but manages to catch himself at the last moment. He feels spent and sore, out of it, but not _enough_. The last order echoes in his mind, but no matter how much he wants to follow it, his body wants something else - pulls him down onto his back after an internal struggle, his head hitting the ground, hard, the same spot where Big Boss struck him, and it keeps hurting. He makes quick work of his pants - as fast as he can with one hand anyway, kicking them aside. He wipes over his cum-covered face and sticks his fingers into his asshole, shoving as much as possible up his rectum, and then he tugs at his own cock violently and repeatedly until he cums, breathlessly, his Boss’s name on his lips. It doesn’t take longer than a couple minutes, adding to the mess on himself and on the floor.

So much for cleaning up.

Recuperating from the force of his own orgasm, Venom only manages to drag himself to the door, locking it again - or for real, this time, and then he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Venenum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _You come on like a drug_  
>  _I just can't get enough_  
>  _I'm like an addict coming at you for a little more_  
>  _And there's so much at stake_  
>  _I can't afford to waste_  
>  _I never needed anybody like this before_
> 
> ~ [Temptation Waits](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRA6oRiMUOY) \- Garbage

The rest of the week goes over remarkably well, and Venom manages to keep himself busy mostly with missions - motivated by Big Boss’s watchful gaze. He doesn’t know how he infiltrated Mother Base. Doesn’t even know his codename, or which unit he’s assigned to, making it impossible for him to tell when his behavior and performance are being scrutinized and when they aren’t. Under the current circumstances, literally anyone could be Big Boss.

 _Like the panopticon_ , he thinks, the comparison of his current situation to a prison not bothering him too much. If Big Boss keeps watching him, maybe he’ll do a better job at watching over the men in turn, without having to intentionally induce paranoia like they had with those _Nineteen Eighty-Four_ styled posters some yedars ago that keep on resurfacing for some reason. Kaz still worries about spies and traitors among their ranks sometimes, even though there’s been no serious incident since then, and recruitment has almost ground to a complete halt. They just don’t have that kind of space anymore, and expanding further seems unreasonable and too risky at this point. Cipher’s still out there even if XOF isn’t, and drawing too much attention to their own activities to the point where they pose a threat to other nations again could more than just backfire.

(Some days he wonders what became of them. Quiet, Emmerich, Eli, even the Third Child… there’s been no intel either way. Dead, most likely. At least to Kaz they are.)

And perhaps it’s a good thing that Sahelanthropus got also dealt with, after all, and how adamant Venom’s been about the disposal of nukes. What did Big Boss say again? _All of this is my property_ _…_ Sounded like he still had some kind of plan for Diamond Dogs rather than just letting it continue to operate as a PF under his flag indefinitely.

(As curious as he is about his former comrades, he’s more interested in knowing what Big Boss’s overarching goals are - or are supposed to be. Isn’t Diamond Dogs already his Outer Heaven? Is it still not enough? Will they still be able to peacefully co-exist with Cipher at the turn of the millennium? Will they even be needed anymore? So many questions and no answers, but he’s okay with that, too.)

He’ll let him know when the time is right, he’s sure. That’s how it’s always been. For now, he just has to worry about keeping it together. Himself, and this army. _Don_ _’t worry about the details._

He can do that.

***

“It’s rare to see you here this early,” Ocelot greets him in the crowded mess hall, sounding and looking openly surprised. “Or, you know. At all.”

Noting the sarcastic undertone, Venom grunts a reply, shoveling some potato mash onto his tray, “I’ll consider it a good thing that I can still surprise you.” There hasn’t been a lot of variety lately, and he suspects their multicultural mess hall team isn’t feeling very inspired, despite plentiful supplies. There’s really no shortage of anything, whether it’s food or luxury goods such as tobacco and liquor - except, perhaps, certain recreational substances.

Once they’ve both filled their trays - more potato mash, fresh fish, creamed corn, salad from yesterday, stale bread and some bananas - they go to sit down in a quiet corner, to drown out the noise from about two hundred soldiers who all grab their lunch at the same time, while the rest is still on duty or out in the field.

“So, aren’t you gonna ask?” Venom picks up the conversation again, a spoonful of potato in his mouth right after.

“Ask you what?” Ocelot says.

“Why I skipped out on the debriefing the other day. Usually you ask if something’s - ”

“Oh,” Ocelot replies, listlessly cutting away at his salmon and meticulously picking out the bones. “I figured you’d be like, ‘No, really, everything’s alright. I just wasn’t in the mood, I was tired, I was _beside myself,_ ’ something along those lines. So what’s the point?”

Venom’s glad that he’s still chewing and swallowing, because that gives him time to process Ocelot’s bitter comment, which - doesn’t quite sound like something he would say. Big Boss’s words echo in his mind. _Failure to maintain trusting relationships with your XOs_ … It’s little things like this that make all the difference, and although Ocelot’s more patient than Kaz, Venom now understands that he has to actually put effort into these relationships to keep Diamond Dogs functioning as a whole. He can’t run the whole thing by himself, and the thought of having to take over administrative duties is enough to make his head spin. Like different cogs of a machine, some bigger, some smaller, but you still need all of them, and you gotta keep them oiled.

Ocelot sighs, and looks like he already regrets his unusually sharp reply just now. “I know you’re not the most talkative one, Boss. But it’s not just that. You’re just so…” He taps against his tray with the knife, searching for the right word.

“What?”

“Distant,” Ocelot says, casually cutting off the fish’s head as if to emphasize his point. “Removed. Not just from me, but everyone else, too. You know how important it is for the men to have you around, to be able to connect with you. It keeps them grounded. Focused.”

Venom sets down his cutlery with a deep frown, considering this. Maybe a few days don’t make up for weeks and months of introspection - of silent suffering and craving Big Boss’s attention. He’d only done the bare bones, been Big Boss’s skeleton without the heart attached to it, or anything else that made him more human and approachable in the eyes of the soldiers. Hadn’t attended the monthly parties, only gone through the motions during CQC training sessions, listened to their problems without offering sensible solutions.

Even Big Boss had taken note of it…

“I…” Venom starts, but he doesn’t know what to say. There is no suitable lie, and he can’t speak the truth, can’t talk about who’s haunting him. Ocelot needs to trust him, but he can’t trust Ocelot. Not with the little information he has.

“Wow, never thought the day would come. Unless my eyes are playing tricks on me and I’m seeing another phantom.”

Venom instinctively freezes up, heart skipping a beat. It’s Kaz’s voice, from behind. He turns to see a soldier place down his tray next to Venom, the empty seat Kaz claims for himself after putting down his walking aid.

He feels the recruit’s gaze penetrate him, but Venom can’t quite make out his eyes. Two seconds, and he’s gone, though Venom’s gaze sticks to his back until he’s out of the mess hall.

“So did you come here to actually eat or just to stare at random people?” Kaz grunts, and Venom snaps back to attention, dedicating himself to his tray of food he’s barely touched since sitting down. “Hey Kaz,” he greets him, belatedly. It’s odd - it’s just like Ocelot says, even though he’s sitting here with his two lieutenants and dozens of soldiers all around him, he feels strangely detached from everything. It’s hard to focus on the things that should matter.

“Miller,” Ocelot acknowledges the new arrival curtly.

“I haven’t seen you in, what? A week? And that was just for the morning drill,” Kaz says, crossly.

“Kaz says that he’s missing you,” says Ocelot. A spoonful of creamed corn lands on his shirt, just barely missing the scarf.

“Thank you for the translation, _Adam._ ” Kaz pokes his spoon back into his food, and Ocelot makes a disgusted noise, wiping off the mess with a tissue.

“You’re welcome.”

 _Sometimes I could swear we still have children on base_ , Venom thinks, baffled. “I thought you were getting along,” he says.

“Oh, we are,” Ocelot speaks up, takes his own spoon, and carefully aims some potato mash at Kaz’s tie while he’s busy poking his fork into his salad. He shoots Ocelot a glare when he’s successfully hit. “Compared to some of the men. They’ll start a fight over the silliest things, because there’s just not much to fight _about_.”

Venom cocks a brow, and takes Kaz’s spoon away when he catches him preparing another corn attack.

“Kaz, how about I come visit you in your office one of these days? Have a drink, talk a bit. We haven’t done that in a while.”

Kaz squints at him, vexed at first, but then he softens as he processes the offer - an active attempt at rekindling the emotional intimacy between them. “Yeah, _sure_ , why the fuck n—”

There’s a sudden commotion in the back of the hall that makes all three of them perk up. Venom can hear DD barking aggressively in the distance, and he leaves his seat to rush to the serving counter to find two recruits going at it - not with food, but with forks and knives, for God knows what reason. DD keeps barking, bites into one man’s leg to pull him off his comrade, but is kicked aside, howling.

“Fucking - did it on purpose, you - !”

“Cut it out!” Venom growls. He’s less interested in who started it and why than he is in simply getting them to _stop_ , since apparently none of the others give a damn, cheering them on instead like it’s public entertainment. He disarms the first, and slams him into the ground, before dislocating the arm of the other one. Cutlery clatters to the ground, and the crowd’s cheers gradually subside when the fight is interrupted.

“What did I tell you?” Venom asks the men on the ground and those gathered around the scene, raising his volume. There are low murmurs, but no answer.

“ _What did I tell you?!_ ” He repeats, even louder and threatening.

“…We’re family,” someone says, hesitantly. Venom looks at the two men on the ground, who don’t look the least bit sorry - still glaring at each other, fingers twitching for a weapon to hold onto.

“You two. Mess hall duty for the rest of the month. _Together._ And if I hear about one more incident, I’ll cuff you together and throw you into the ocean. That’ll teach you to get along. Understood?”

“…Yes, sir.”

They slink away, followed by DD who ushers them out, and the crowd dissipates, men and women returning to their routine. Venom suddenly feels a warm hand on his shoulder, and fights down his own reflex to punch whoever it is, prosthetic curling into a fist.

“That’ll just make them more aggressive,” Ocelot says. “Some people just don’t work well together. They’re like poison to each other, no matter what you do. Sometimes it’s better for them to just keep their distance. Or you could discha—”

“I don’t care,” Venom says suddenly. “They’ll just have to arrange themselves with it. Does this sort of thing happen often, lately?”

“I’ll be honest,” Ocelot says. “Morale’s been low. Kaz and I do our best, but without you…”

_A drop in morale and discipline among the men_ _…_

“I understand,” Venom cuts him off, stiffly. He turns to face Ocelot, looks at him with newfound determination. “I’ll be dropping by medical for a check-up. I’ve really just been feeling under the weather lately. Might be my metabolism.”

Ocelot’s expression softens, becomes rueful. “You’ve been working hard the past three years,” he says, touching his arm again, and Venom has to consciously remind himself not to shake him off. “It’s okay, you know… just come back soon.” He gives him a wry smile, and Venom nods. He waves at Kaz in the far back of the hall, keeping his promise in mind, and leaves, his own tray of food remaining mostly untouched.

***

_You_ _’ll pay a visit to medical once you find the time._

The sun’s about to set when Venom does finally find the time, having spent half of his day at the support and intel platforms to observe their work, and praise individuals if their efforts warrant it. When he left he overheard a young girl, an engineer that just recently joined, blabbering to her superior about how she didn’t know that Big Boss came around personally to acknowledge their contributions, believing him to do nothing but bark orders when he’s around at all. He’d cringed inwardly at that, because that’s really not the image people are supposed to have of him. If they do, what makes Diamond Dogs different from the other PFs, or even a nation’s military?

Nothing. The title and the associated beliefs hold all the power.

There’s a quiet _ruff_ when Venom pushes the button next to the door to 2F Medical, and he turns around to spot DD, who must have followed him here. It surprises Venom to see him, given how DD’s gone out of his way to avoid him since that incident.

“DD…” Venom says, sinking down to a knee, and holding out his hand. “Hey boy.”

DD pads over to him, ears and tail lowered, sniffing his palm. He jumps back when Venom moves his fingers.

“It’s alright. Come here.” He does as he’s told, and his tongue darts out to lick over the hand that struck him. Venom strokes over his muzzle and stop, feeling for any scars. There’s a small one by his flews, which he thinks wasn’t there before.

“I can’t tell you what came over me that day. …Heh, I wonder if you’d say the same, if you could.” Venom’s hand moves behind one ear, and DD leans into the touch. There’s no way for him to ever _really_ know why DD did what he did. Touch is really their only means of conversation.

“Did you just want my attention?” Venom wonders, aloud. DD’s only answer consists of moving his own head and Venom’s hand around so he gets to scratch his chin.

“Probably, huh… Been listening to that tape a lot…” He sighs, gives his dog one last pet on the head, and stands up. “Still, DD. Don’t do that again. Okay?”

DD barks, once. Venom takes that as _affirmative_.

“Good boy. Door’s open, and don’t drool on the -”

Before he can finish the sentence, DD’s already dashing off.

“…On the pillow.” He shakes his head, and steps inside, smiling nontheless. And ignoring his rumbling stomach.

***

Venom raps his knuckles against the door of the examination room. “Busy?” He asks, though he can’t imagine that to be the case at this hour. Unless someone else got into a fight. The door’s opened by a man holding a rag in his other hand. Venom thinks he’s seen him here before - cleaning duty. Mayfly? He snaps to a quick salute.

“Boss?” He says at the same time, audibly concerned and scanning his superior from head to toe.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing urgent. Just here for a physical.”

“The mandatory exam is scheduled for next month,” Mayfly replies. “You want it now, sir?”

“Yeah. Anybody on shift?”

“I think - Whale’s on break right now, but he should be back soon. Why don’t you, uh, strip down to your waist already and lay down?” He points at the examination couch as he walks to it, adjusting the backrest so Venom can lean against it when sitting down.

“Okay,” Venom says, looking around - he hasn’t been here in a while, avoiding Medical unless he’s _seriously_ injured or visiting someone. Mayfly leaves the room, closing the door and leaving Venom to himself.

He pulls the shirt over his head, already trying to think of a plausible explanation for the bruises on his back, because no doubt that’s gonna be a topic. He really doesn’t want to be here - something about hospitals and anything associated with them just gives him a bad vibe - , but it was Big Boss who’d ordered him to go. So it’s probably not a good idea to make his own decision in that regard - Big Boss’s will always override his own.

Venom tosses his shirt over a chair, removes his boots, fastens his own ponytail, and lays down on the examination couch. He wonders how long he’ll have to wait, and looks towards the window, watching the last sunbeams being swallowed by the ocean, day making room for night. His vision follows suit, and he rests his eye for a bit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A door opens. Slow, measured footsteps against the linoleum floor.

“Bit late, don’t you think?” A gritty voice above him. V clamps down on the instinctual panic when he recognizes his own voice, and finds himself staring straight at -

“Boss?” He says, voice meek. Something shifts again inside his head, trying to push all the questions he has aside. He spots the patch on His uniform, reading MED.

“You’re a - “

“Does this feel too _nostalgic_ for you,” Big Boss says, patting his cheek lightly in his utterly condescending manner. His eyepatch is still missing. “It’s okay. I’m gonna help you get better, now that I know what the problem is. Sit up straight.”

V does as he’s told, gaze following Big Boss as He turns around and prepares something. _He_ _’s assigned to medical. I didn’t know he had that kind of knowledge. But how does he manage to just -_

“…Rgh,” he grunts, touching his hand to his forehead. It feels like someone shot him in the head, like his brain is bleeding out of the hole. Big Boss takes his wrist, and fastens a tourniquet around his arm. “Stop hurting yourself, V,” He scolds, “Focus on what’s happening.”

What’s happening is that Big Boss disinfects his vein and injects something into it, and he doesn’t even question it until after the fact.

“What is it?”

“A B12 shot. Some vitamins, basically. I’m going to check your eyes, pulse and blood pressure next.”

“…” He doesn’t know what to say, and lets Big Boss play doctor, reaching for various tools - eye pen, stethoscope and sphygmomanometer. He does all of it routinely and the same way any other professional combat medic would do it. Any soldier has had basic first aid training, but this is almost too advanced for someone who’s more familiar with a gun than a scalpel.

But he shouldn’t be thinking about that. His pupils are dilated, his pulse is a bit too high when Big Boss listens for it. It’s not the initial panic. It’s because of how he keeps thinking about kissing Him, about Big Boss inappropriately touching other parts of his body. _I_ _’m gonna help you get better._ Wouldn’t that already be enough? Being fucked right here?

…But he didn’t earn it.

“Boss…” He murmurs, when Big Boss removes the cuff of the blood pressure gauge. “All within normal range,” He tells him, placing a hand on his chest. “Lay down, on your side.”

V does that, too, turning his back to Big Boss. He’s stopped worrying, and allowed himself to feel safe and taken care of. Big Boss’s fingers are running over the faint bruises on his back and shoulders, tracing them gently, with controlled pressure. His skin prickles, and it’s weirdly - almost enjoyable.

“Why did you do this, V?”

The answer comes easier than he’d expected.

“To feel you.”

“This is not your choice to make. It’s mine.”

“I know, Sir. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again,” he sighs pleasantly, thrilled at the unseen sensation of Big Boss’s index finger running down the length of his spine, all the way down to the small of his back, where it stops. He feels some wet cotton swab there seconds later, presumably more disinfectant. _Another injection_ _…?_

“Boss…?” He says, over his shoulder. This time it’s not just one syringe, it’s two, one of them already in Big Boss’s hands. He taps against the barrel, getting rid of the bubbles.

“Would you let me do it even if I didn’t tell you what’s in it?” He asks.

“Sure,” says Venom, with only a slight delay. This isn’t Room 101. You gotta put some trust into your medical personnel, no matter who it is. And Big Boss can do whatever he wants, anyway.

“This one’s morphine. The other one,” He inclines his chin towards the syringe on the tray, “Is baclofen. To ease the pain and help you relax. I’ll administer it intrathecally for better effect.”

“In the spine,” V translates.

“It might be uncomfortable.”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

V shuts his eyes when Big Boss approaches him with the needle, putting one hand on his waist before He stabs it straight into his spine right above his ass, and V flinches despite himself. It stings terribly, the pain lacing up his entire backside and making him feel his own bones.

It also makes him absurdly aware of the tightness of his own pants.

“Shit —”

“One more,” Big Boss says, relocating his hand to V’s shoulder to steady him and stop the squirming, however subtle. He inserts the second needle in almost the exact same spot and a garbled noise escapes V, a moan and whimper mixed together. His pulse picks up again, and his face is hot. Why does something like this —

Big Boss pulls out the needle, slowly, pressing some gauze against the puncture to staunch the immediate blood flow for a few seconds. V tries to catch his breath, and fight down the erection that’s starting to rear its head. He’s not very successful, and Big Boss knows how to make it worse.

“Your prostate’s next,” He says, and the smug grin is audible in his tone even if V can’t see it at this angle. “Stand up. Pants down, and bend over.”

“Yes Sir,” V mumbles dizzily, and slides off the couch, legs feeling wobbly. He awkwardly fumbles his belt open and lets both his pants and boxers drop down, pooling around his ankles. He bends over as instructed, and hears something _snap_ \- out of the corner of his eye he can spot Big Boss putting on some latex gloves, squeezing medical gel onto his fingers immediately after.

V spread his legs automatically, swallows down the unholy amount of spit in his mouth. He’s almost ashamed of how badly he _wants_ this, and not just the fingers examining his anus and prostate. His cock’s already half-hard with precum beading at the tip, balls tense with anticipation, though the rest of him feels - not _quite_ as tense. It can’t be the morphine -

V rummages around in his chaotic, fragmented memories, tries to recall what baclofen is and does. For some reason he can only associate it with Diazepam, and then it hits him - when Big Boss’s cool, slick fingers circle his asshole -

“Muscle relaxant,” V gasps, propping himself up on his elbows, balls twitching when Big Boss’s fingers glide over and feel out his perineum.

“Correct,” his Boss confirms. He takes his testicles into his palm, squeezes them gently together, then individually. Fondling them. His other hand kneads his ass cheek, and V melts into the touch while his cock stiffens, oozing more precum. It runs down the shaft and only serves to slicken up the fingers more.

“Thought it might help. Assuming you haven’t been touched here in a while,” Big Boss hums, leaving his ballsack be to return to the ring of muscle in his ass cleft, poking it curiously. “Or am I wrong?”

V buries his face in his own arm, shaking his head. Big Boss slides his middlefinger all the way in, just like that. His entire bottom feels like jelly, providing no resistance at all.

“Did you let Ocelot fuck you?”

“No…!” Why would He even ask that -

“You lying to me, V?”

“I’m not - “ He yelps loudly and suddenly, when the other hand comes crashing down on his wiggling ass, and another finger is added, squelching inside.

“Quiet,” Big Boss reminds him, His own voice level. He bucks back against him without meaning to, his body doing what it wants.

“Then you did it yourself. Just like you did when I left the other night, no?”

“I did it myself -” He groans against his arm when he’s slapped again, the very same spot, starting to feel sore when Big Boss massages the pain deeper into his flesh.

Three fingers.

“Bad,” Big Boss chides him, His digits rubbing teasingly over his prostate, sending jolts of both pain and pleasure up his spine. It’s enough to drive a man insane, and V’s been waiting way too long for this. “I’m never going to fuck you at this rate.”

“I’m - I’m so sorry, Boss, I _swear_ \- I - “ He starts to rut, trying to fuck himself on the fingers, and that’s when Big Boss strikes him a third time, so hard that he yowls and his knees nearly give in.

“I see how sorry you are. Want my hand that badly? Why not all of it? It’s bigger than my cock. And there’s no such thing as ‘too big’ for your slutty ass, is there?”

V whines and chuckles in the same breath, hoarsely. He pulls himself back up onto the examination couch, relying on the strength of his prosthetic to keep himself in place. He can’t think anymore, about what he does or what he says, and his world narrows down to this single obscene moment. There’s nothing after this, no Diamond Dogs, no responsibilities. His head feels light. It’s nice.

“I’m a slut,” he mutters, laying his head down on the couch when Big Boss’s fingers withdraw from his hole, leaving it hollow. Even the pressure on his shrapnel is pleasant. He eyes Big Boss at his back as much as he can, reaches back, his splayed fingers pulling his own bruised ass cheek back as if to invite Him in. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”

 _Even if it kills me,_ he thinks feverishly. Big Boss clicks his tongue, lubing His entire hand up. He presses His fingers together tightly, the thumb between them.

“Look what you make me do, V, while I’m on duty,” Big Boss says. “How unprofessional. No sign of a guilty conscience, either.”

He begins to breach his already loose asshole with all four — all five of his fingers, hand still flat. It doesn’t hurt, and he doesn’t clench, not even when He disappears inside him up the fucking wrist, swallowed up by his asshole. V just rolls his eye, feeling full, full, _full_ -

“Christ,” Big Boss murmurs, scissoring His fingers carefully inside him before rearranging them into a fist. His left hand rubs over the small of V’s back, his spine - soothingly, when V starts to sputter incoherently. It’s not words at this point. Not even remotely close, just garbled nonsense.

He shoves His fist deeper. Just a few inches.

“P - _Please_ ,” V manages to squeeze out, his own hand twitching towards his cock.

“You wanna cum like that? With my fist up your ass?”

He nods.

“…Alright,” Big Boss relents, plucking a paper tissue from a nearby box while V starts to jerk himself off with slow strokes, unable or unwilling to move very much like this, and Big Boss fucks him only shallowly with His fist. His panting becomes louder and more frantic the closer he gets, and when his body seizes up from impending orgasm, Big Boss holds the tissue to his cock so he can cum into it.

It’s soaked when he’s done, and Big Boss removes his fist again with the same care, uncurling his fist and withdrawing inch after inch.

Talk about one gaping, drenched asshole.

“Guess your prostate’s working _fine_ ,” Big Boss comments, and V passes out for a bit, wrecked. The only reason he doesn’t slide off the couch is because Big Boss hoists him back up onto it. He picks up V’s pants and shirt and tosses it over to him, then discards the used tissue and starts cleaning up the medical equipment, making sure everything’s where it was before. V watches him move about dozily. For how long, he cannot say.

Words are still hard. He wishes he could adequately describe this warm, pleasant glow that makes everything else seem unimportant. This feeling only Big Boss manages to evoke, of _belonging_. Cared for. He’s sure it would sound crazy to most people…

“…Glad,” is what it comes down to, in the end. “I’m glad.”

“V?” Big Boss turns to him, questioning.

“That’s all.”

“It is,” Big Boss gruffs. “Get dressed. Eat something, then rest. I don’t want to see you here again for a while.”

“Yes, Boss,” V says and heels, like a well-trained, _well-fucked_ dog.


	8. Viduata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sheer out of hope_   
>  _Cried out of tears_   
>  _Whats left but all my nothings_   
>  _My life tied up In silken threads_   
>  _Out of time it's all for nothing_
> 
> _How long must I wait_  
>  _For one moment to lean on_  
>  _Just whispers from my radio_  
>  _To paint my life in shades of black and white_  
>  _How low must I fall_  
>  _To find one dream to dream on_  
>  _Oh, oh, oh this dark dark night_
> 
> ~ [Dark, Dark Night](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPKJIouRbEY) \- Midge Ure

There are always two of them. No matter into which cage he looks - two gerbils, two storks, two caracals… kept together as same-sex pairs, because they can’t risk them mating and potentially producing offspring. They have no room or resources for any more animals here, only housing a select few to prevent their early deaths on the many battlegrounds of this world. They are the few that got lucky, that were picked out by Big Boss and confronted by his mercy.

Always two of a kind, that’s the rule, to combat any feelings of loneliness. Even animals deserve companions, someone else that speaks and understands their native language.

Except for the bears. There’s only one bear, and Venom frowns disapprovingly when he passes by the cage in the carnivore section of the animal conservation platform. He hasn’t visited in a long while, but sometimes he finds it soothing to watch nature and its inhabitants, even when it’s sort of artificial - a zoo in the middle of the ocean. Real animals forced to live among humans likening themselves to animals. He tries not to think about it too much. What matters is that having the animals helps with morale, aside from the additional cash they get for housing them.

“Why is there only one bear? I’m sure I brought in two.” Venom asks the only woman currently on duty, Butterfly - one of the zookeepers, and a trained vet. He doesn’t know much else about her. The brown bear is lying in one corner of its cage, apathetic. With his hind leg wounded too, if his vision doesn’t fail him.

“Oh - Boss,” Butterfly says, carrying a bucket of meat scraps. She gives him a quick but sharp salute. “Surprised to see you here.”

She saunters over to her commander, sets the bucket down and peers into the cage between the bars.

“There _were_ two, but…”

“But?”

She hesitates, looks almost sorrowful. “We found the other one dead about a month ago. We’re not exactly sure what the cause was.”

“Old age?” Venom guesses. “I suppose there was no injury? No disease?”

She glances at him, cautiously, voice low.

“No, I don’t think so. I mean… I know sometimes at night some… let’s call them _bullies_ , like to sneak in here and harass the animals by throwing stones at them, but - “

Venom perks up, cocking his eyebrows.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard of that.”

Who would even do that? He thought the men appreciated the animals and cared for them, not that they got some sadistic pleasure out of torturing them when they were already caged - and it occurs to him just how little he still knows about what goes on at base, and the parts he doesn’t frequent very often.

“ - Anyway, sir,” Butterfly continues quickly, and Venom senses that she doesn’t want to address the issue. Perhaps even regrets mentioning it. “I examined the bear, and I can tell you without doubt that the cause of death must’ve been something else. Maybe it wasn’t even physical.”

“What do you mean?”

She taps the middle of her chest, indicating the heart. Venom doesn’t fully understand.

“What? But he had a companion. Or did they not - “ He gestures loosely at the remaining bear, suspecting that the wound he sports might’ve been inflicted by his dead mate. Then again, it’s probably too fresh for that…

She waves her hands. “No, no. There were no problems with them. It’s a little hard to explain, but… ultimately, they’re still caged, right?” Venom blinks at her. She’s not done yet, so he doesn’t say anything. “Don’t get me wrong, I love each and every animal you’ve brought back and that I was allowed to take care of. But we’re still out here, on the ocean. It’s not their natural habitat, they can’t mate, and even animals are prone to depression…”

“They’d die if we’d left them were they were before,” Venom interjects, remembering the NGO that had started all this, and their kindhearted mission. Saving animals from the battlefield.

“Everyone dies,” she says plainly, like it’s an universal truth. There’s a grace to her words he’s seldom heard. “I think what matters is how you live your life until that moment. Are you free and living life to its fullest, with all its consequences; or do you allow yourself to be caged in order to merely survive?”

Venom just stares at her, feeling like the question had been directed specifically at him, and suddenly Butterfly starts to panic.

“I’m sorry sir, I’ve said too much.”

“No, it’s fine,” Venom reassures her. Touches her shoulder, makes her look at him again. It feels natural, acting like this. Feels like Big Boss. “I appreciate your honesty. But I’m curious: Why’s the other bear wounded, then? Looks like a bite to me.”

“…That’s right. He’s either apathetic like this or incredibly aggressive, even antagonizing the other animals, trying to break out of his own cage. Obviously we can’t allow that, so I think it might be self-inflicted. It’s not like I can ask him what’s wrong, but he’s probably feeling lonely. Humans are inclined towards self-destruction too, in similar situations.”

Venom considers heading out and catching another bear - a simple solution to an apparently simple problem, but after everything he’s heard, he believes it might be more complicated than that. Perhaps there’s an inherent flaw he’s overlooked up until now. He looks around, looks at the wolves and wild dogs and foxes, all the different species they’ve collected in one place, under the guise of a good cause and good business. But their reality is that they’re just being gawked at, serving as live entertainment - it’s peaceful most of the time, sure, but life isn’t always peaceful. In fact, he knows that it’s a rather unnatural state.

Paz taught him that.

“Sir?” Butterfly addresses him, after a minute or two of silent contemplation has passed.

“Do you think we should release them?” Venom asks. “You’re welcome to speak your thoughts.”

“Uhmm…” There’s a lot of weight to that question, and Venom notes that she’s uncomfortable. But it’s important - _what do you think Big Boss would do?_

“I don’t know, sir… I’m not qualified to make a decision like that. Everyone likes having the animals here, myself included. I just can’t close my eyes to their suffering when I’m with them every day.”

“I see. Thank you, regardless. I’ll have to think on it myself.”

She nods and salutes again, picking up the bucket to get back to feeding the animals while Venom fishes for his electronic cigar. He wanders over to the railing, and lights it with his iDroid, watching the waves at the far end of the horizon, lapping at the sun. Nothing but water all around them, separating them from the rest of civilization like the banished outcasts they are. He thinks about Big Boss, imagines where he might be right now, what he’s doing. What he’s thinking. Maybe he’s even watching him right now?

Venom absentmindedly touches his chest. It’s been how many days now since he last spoke to him?

Too many. He closes his eyes.

 _Even though I know you_ _’ll always be with me, I still…_

Footsteps. Someone approaching him from behind.

_…I still…_

“Boss?”

_…miss you terribly, and my heart aches._

“ - Yeah?” Venom gives his reply, somewhat delayed, and he exhales some smoke as he turns around just enough to acknowledge Butterfly by looking at her. He can’t quite place her current expression - worry, perhaps? Something else must be troubling her.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Feel free.”

 _This is good,_ he thinks. It’s always good when his subordinates come to him, think of him as human rather than as the weapon he really is. He expects her to spill some deeply personal issue now, asking for his advice and support, as it’s happened so many times before. _See, Ishmael?_

She fidgets a little, clearly uncomfortable. “Is something… or someone bothering you right now? I mean, are you -”

Venom is at a loss for words because he didn’t exactly expect _that_ , and all he manages is a perplexed, “What?”

“I know I’m just - no one special, but if you need to talk to someone - “

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Venom snaps, suddenly, and she flinches visibly. This is all wrong. This has never happened before -

“…We worry about you, sir,” she says, meekly. If she’s intimidated, it doesn’t stop her from pressing on, encouraged by the intimacy of their preceding conversation.

“Your behavior has been… strange lately. Then there’s Commander Miller and Ocelot… we notice. I just want you to know that we’re here for you as much as you’re here for us. We know you’re human, too. So if you’re hurting -”

_you're human_

Something in Venom shuts down; a guillotine dropping down and severing any emotional connection they might’ve had.

“It’s none of your business, soldier,” he growls, defensively, despite how much he wants to defuse the situation calmly, without being intimidating. “And I don’t take kindly to gossiping about your commanding officers. We tell you everything you need to know. The rest shouldn’t matter to you. Did I make myself clear?”

Her shoulders sag, and she takes a step back, lending the re-established distance physical form.

“…Yes sir. I apologize for overstepping any boundaries,” Butterfly says, and promptly, shamefully returns to her duties concerning the animals. Venom looks after her with icy acrimony and distrust. This isn’t good at all.

What do they know, anyway?

***

 

( **Nothing. You** **’re just like parasites. You take and take and take. That’s how you survive, on the back of someone else, sucking them dry. You don’t know any other way to live.** ) 

Venom dreams with both eyes open, but only one is healthy. His depth perception has been slightly off since he woke.

 

***

Venom stares listlessly at the lukewarm coffee in his mug, held between both hands, trying to make out his own reflection and the overhead light in the black beverage. He’s only half-listening to Kaz, who’s usually leading during these mandatory, bi-weekly meetings, with Ocelot after him who often presents counterpoints just so they would consider all possible angles and alternatives. Venom’s just there because he’s the Boss, and the Boss has the last word, but he rarely has anything of substance to say and finds himself just nodding along more often than not. Finances and base management aren’t his strong point, anyway.

Some of the men are present, too, reporting and negotiating for their own divisions. Venom refrains from taking part in the lively discourse regarding banned substances and allowed leave time. Staff is really pushing for both lately, and the latter in particular is a sensitive issue - none of them had ever considered that people could possibly want ‘time off’ from Diamond Dogs, and more than just a few days of collective R&R at the beach and around Capetown.

It’s not a good sign, and opens even more doors for spies and betrayal. Venom’s not surprised that the very suggestion agitates Kaz, who’s perhaps the most intent on running a tight ship, between the three of them.

Venom supposes he is partly to blame for neglecting his own duties, and failing to bind people to him - the idol and champion of their breed - and the organization. It’s a small miracle that no one’s thought of or, at the very least, mentioned quitting yet. Though that might only be a matter of time, with how things are going. He sighs to himself, gaze dropping down to the black, bitter liquid again, catching the corners of his mouth curling downwards.

Big Boss won’t be happy. That’s all that matters to Venom, in the end - that he keeps disappointing _him_ , even more so than his own men and XOs. He’d thought things would fall back into place now, but…

 _It_ _’s still not right._

Perhaps he just doesn’t know what peace feels like, even when everything he can see points towards a peaceful state. It’s like something dark and ugly still continues to fester beneath the surface. Do his men feel the same way?

( **You know your men are using you as much as you are using them.** )

“Do our base supplies still cover the animals for the next three months?” Someone asks.

( **But on the inside you are aching to be free. Your freedom consists of a collar and a leash -** )

He thinks of the wounded, solitary bear in his cage, as motionless as a corpse.

“…Shouldn’t keep them,” Venom says suddenly, quietly, feeling sick to his stomach for some inexplicable reason. Maybe it’s the coffee.

“Sorry, Boss?” Kaz says, turning towards him, in a tone that suggests that he hasn’t heard him, or just pretends like he didn’t.

“I don’t want to keep the animal conservation platform running any longer,” Venom says impulsively. All eyes are on him. Kaz gapes at him, Ocelot frowns in disbelief.

“Good joke, Snake. I almost fell for it.”

“It’s not a joke. I’m serious.”

“You’re not making any _sense_ ,” Kaz groans, and the frustration of having to deal with his partner’s odd behavior is written plainly on his face. He rises from his seat, as if that would give him a higher standing during this negotiation that everybody in the room knows isn’t even one. Boss has the last word, and when he’s set his mind to something, he’s near immovable - whether it’s been Quiet’s recruitment or Huey’s exile.

“The income they give us aside - you just want to release the animals into the wild, and expect that to go over well? It’ll cost us too many resources to relocate them, and the men won’t fucking like it either - they’ve grown attached to them, you know that -”

“Don’t care,” Venom cuts him off curtly.

“ _Why?_ ” Kaz snaps. Ocelot placed a hand on his shoulder, gently pushes him back into his seat, and Kaz sits down with a huff. “Keeping them is good for our reputation, too!”

“ - I got to admit I don’t quite see the possible merit in this either,” says Ocelot.

It’s not a question Venom can answer, if he’s being honest with himself. He’s just going with a gut feeling, something that feels marginally more… right, and less suffocating, even when he’s not pleasing anyone by making a decision like that. But he wants to make this decision, wants to change something.

(But it’s not just that.)

So he dodges the question. “I have my reasons.”

“Reasons,” Kaz deadpans. Venom knows he’s had enough of his evasive behaviors and replies. It’s what started this - this decay, many months ago, after he met Big Boss for the first time. If he did meet him. “Let me guess, reasons you can’t tell anyone about? Not even _me_?”

“Kaz…” Ocelot tries to stop him from talking up a storm, but Kaz doesn’t care, just snorts angrily. And goes right on. “Does anyone else in here actually think that’s a good idea? Huh?” Venom glowers at him, finally setting down his mug. Kaz looks around, inciting approval - but all he gets is awkward silence.

It lasts for about five seconds.

“That’s irrelevant.”

The voice comes from the far end of the room, and immediately captures Venom’s attention. He doesn’t think he’s heard it once during the entirety of this meeting, but before - it sounds like -

“It’s the Boss’s decision to make, not ours or yours, Commander Miller. If he doesn’t want the animals around anymore - no matter the reason - we’ll get rid of them. End of.”

Kaz’s silent rage and indignation at having his authority undermined by a random recruit - telling him indirectly that he is, after everything, still one of them, and just one of Big Boss’s soldiers - is so strong it’s nearly suffocating. It’s almost comical how quickly he’s been put into his place, because he can’t come up with a good retort without losing even more face.

(And part of Venom wonders if he cowers instinctively, if he’s also heard or sensed something that’s chilling to the bone.)

“…Can’t argue with that,” Ocelot says, filling in for Kaz, who’s gone quiet. Venom sees him knitting a brow, grabbing Kaz’s arm and urging him to get up, and out. The way he pushes Ocelot away and hobbles more or less graciously towards the door reminds Venom of a beaten dog.

“We’ve addressed everything important, so let’s call it a day. Dismissed.”

Ocelot leaves after Kaz, shooting Venom a last glance, who nods in response and stays where he is. The other men filter out one by one, clearly made uncomfortable by what they’ve just witnessed. In the end only one person remains, shuffling through and putting away his reports. The chair scrapes loudly against the metal flooring when it’s shoved back, then footsteps, steady and measured.

“You’re not drinking that, sir?” The soldier asks, stopping at Venom’s seat.

“…No.”

The cup is removed from his vision. Venom takes a deep breath and says, almost whispers, “It’s you, isn’t it?”

The walls have ears here.

“Sorry?” Comes the innocuous reply. “I didn’t catch that. You gotta speak up more often, Boss. You’re awfully quiet lately. Shouldn’t let your own subordinates walk all over you, hm?”

With the mug in hand, he strolls out of the meeting room, and Venom’s alone, looking after him. When he leaves two minutes later with a pounding heart, he only finds the empty mug resting on a fuse box.

His head hurts, like white light does in the eyes.

***

The mattress creaks softly under his weight when Venom sits down, pulling his muscle shirt over his head. He undoes his ponytail, and his gaze flits from one photograph in his gallery to another, the creases softly smoothed out by a thumb moments prior. The colors are all desaturated, and he doesn’t know if it’s a characteristic of the photographs himself, or his own impaired vision still. Most of them are in shades of black and white.

There’s one of Paz, too, the girl he’d failed to save and who now only lives on in his memories… and his imagination. She smiles brightly into the camera, consumed by the role that had been written for her by another master, but Venom doesn’t think that it looks fake, as much as she must have suffered underneath her mask.

All peace and happiness is artificial, in the end. As our masks begin to crumble, so do we.

Venom’s spent the last few hours mentally arranging himself with the possibility that Big Boss might not be real - or, if he is, that the incarnation of him he’s dealt with is only his afterimage, conjured up by Venom himself. There are too many inconsistencies (did Kaz not recognize his voice, for starters, and why has he not come to punish him for his recent decision?), and doubt is starting to eat away at him. Paz serves as a constant reminder that it’s happened before, that he’s capable of reviving people and their voices in his mind. Paz did exist as a separate person, but does another Big Boss?

He has no answer to that question, and there’s no one who could offer him one. He wonders what kind of difference it would make if there was.

A cold nose nudges his flank. It’s DD, sitting on the bed and wagging his tail. Venom lays down next to his pet, rolls onto his side and rests the side of his head on his damaged elbow.

 _Does it matter? No matter how much of this - this life - is real, does it negate my experiences and feelings? Do they belong to him, too? What am I_ _…_

DD looks at him, doleful, snout sandwiched between his fore-paws. He gives a stifled, plaintive whine, and Venom reaches forward to scratch him behind one ear, feels his own throat tighten, the pang in his chest.

( _”If you need someone to talk to - “_ )

_I can't_ _…_

( _”You’re human - “_ )

Venom screws his eyes shut, but the tears spill out anyway. His body is rocked by a first violent sob, and DD crawls closer, rubs his head against his shoulder. Venom slings his arm around him, buries his scarred face in his fur, and weeps for the first time, for himself.

And then he talks, because listening is all DD can do. He’s just an animal. He won’t tell a soul. _Don_ _’t tell anyone._

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he says, overflows. “It feels like I’m bursting, like I’m going crazy, or - maybe I’ve been all along. Am I even still alive? I died a long time ago, didn’t I… when that helicopter crashed - or was it when I killed her? I don’t know, I don’t know what my purpose is in this world anymore. To be the bearer of his pain… of everyone’s pain. And we can never let go of it, like an addiction… it’s all we know. There’s no relief for us. The Boss… and I…”

It’s slowly crushing him, this shared burden, this cage.

He sniffles, pauses, and mourns their hollow existence while DD licks his palm.

“We only find relief in each other - this fleeting peace - but it doesn’t last, it never lasts. I don’t know if I can keep living like this, haunted by phantoms ---”

 _I just don't_ _know. The thought of sharing this pain with someone else is what keeps me alive at all._ _Someone who understands -_

Venom pulls DD closer to him, who lets him, readily providing comfort to his master. _Don_ _’t leave_ , Venom mumbles when rain starts to fall and he drifts off to sleep, _don_ _’t abandon me_ , but his voice is that of a child’s, afraid and alone.


	9. Vicissitudo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I've got trouble on my mind_   
>  _I see the cracks in the open sky_   
>  _Feel the lightning, illuminate the pain inside_   
>  _I don't know what I will find deep inside_
> 
>  
> 
> _I feel the weight of the world_  
>  _Weighing on my mind_  
>  _I can't carry the Earth_  
>  _I'm not strong enough_  
>  _I've got trouble on my mind_
> 
> ~ [Weight of the World](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rOegVDm_Z2s) \- Hurts

His men’s laughter is close and yet so distant, so muted, here at the platform’s edge. An additional base-wide party has been scheduled in this month appease staff for the sudden shutdown of the animal conversation platform. Venom doesn’t know what kind of explanation Ocelot or the men that had been present during the meeting have given the others, but even then he’s sure that well-founded rumors are already making the rounds. He couldn’t figure out the looks some of them were giving him when he’d mingled tonight - concern, confusion? Perhaps even distrust?

Anyway, they like parties and an opportunity to let loose, get into mostly friendly scuffles with each other. Venom’s disposition hadn’t been the best from the beginning, struggling with his depression and mood swings that make it hard to keep up pretenses when all eyes are on him — including Big Boss’s. After two, three hours of not talking or even drinking very much, he began to drift away from the more or less intoxicated crowds, their talks and games, to watch the sunset on the lower deck of the command strut, his feet dangling over the edge, but still far away from the ocean’s surface; a warm, orange glimmer to it that reminds him of fire, and -

It’s not unfamiliar, this sight and vague weightlessness, evoking a sense of déjà-vu within him with fragmented images popping into his mind like sunrays breaking briefly through the cracks of thick gray clouds.

Paz is prominent in these images, for some reason; absentmindedly petting a white cat sitting beside her or on her lap as she gazes into the distance, the ever present cheerful smile fading from her youthful expression when she believes she is not being watched by Big Boss’s troops, thinking of her as an innocent, optimistic child -

And her lips move as she talks quietly to the cat but he can’t make out the words -

He blinks, then he is the one in her place again, and it’s the same but different and he’s not Big Boss. He looks down but doesn’t see his feet or the water, instead there are pages of a open book with printed letters but the words are blurry, he can’t decipher them -

_“Quel roman a obtenu ton attention? Pourquoi courez-vous loin, N———?”_

He blinks again, turns his head, spots Ocelot approaching his hideout. His hands feel empty and when he glances at them, they are.

“Sorry, what?”

Ocelot sighs, descending the remaining stairs.

“I said, ‘Why are you here all by yourself? You know your men are missing you, right?’. Either your French is abysmal, or _mine_ _’s_ gotten worse. I’m guessing the latter.”

Venom squints, trying to recall the sudden, random French - he’d throw other languages at him sometimes, to test his listening comprehension - but this time…

**_Is that really what you said?_ **

But it’s Ocelot, so why would he lie? Maybe his French is really just that bad. Venom quickly and carelessly dismisses that train of thought, and catches Ocelot offering him a tiny but fond smile. He holds a can of beer in his hand and, cracking it open, he hands it to Venom when he gracefully flops down next to him.

“All out of the good stuff already,” Ocelot says, apologetically. “But I figured it’s better than nothing. You didn’t drink very much.”

“Thanks,” Venom says, and takes a sip. He grimaces when he sets it down in his lap and holds it with both hands.

“Tastes like piss,” he comments facetiously, followed by a chuckle and Ocelot joins in - apparently he’s not here to lecture or judge him beyond the initial question, and Venom’s grateful for that. Kaz has barely exchanged a word with him in the days following the meeting, and had only begrudgingly gone to the animal conversation platform to plan out and oversee the animals’ relocation via airway. Venom himself had had another brief talk with Butterfly, and the way she’d talked about the bear’s condition, it had sounded like she didn’t believe him to survive the helicopter ride.

Venom didn’t ask what became of him, in the end, just hopes it was the right choice to make. Morally, at the very least.

Ocelot doesn’t say anything else, not for a while. Venom finds himself enjoying the silence, the scent of seawater and the evening breeze clearing his head momentarily, while he nurses his drink.

“What a sight,” Ocelot eventually says, with awe in his voice, when the sun seemingly drowns in the horizon, painting both the ocean and the sky in vibrant red and yellows. He makes a sweeping gesture.

“I still consider it a privilege. Not many people wake up to and go to sleep with that kind of view.”

“Only when when you’re surrounded by the ocean…”

 _Trapped_ , he’d almost said. Ocelot’s not wrong, though - it’s just that, after some time, routine sets in and you find yourself unable to appreciate the simple things.

“And the sense of freedom that comes with it,” Ocelot continues, and Venom looks at him with a mild frown, follows his gaze then, glued to the picturesque image in front of him. Something you usually only see on postcards.

“Nothing but the sea and the sky no matter where you look - and our home, in the center of it, apart from modern civilization and its arbitrary laws. No one telling us what to do and chaining us down. We choose our own rules and burdens. That’s what you stand for.”

Here to provide reassurance then, rather than questioning his abilities and decisions as a leader. A pair of seagulls passes over their heads, cries in the distance. Venom watches their shapes become smaller until they are merely dots against the glowing sun. He feels strangely content, for the moment, and he thinks - maybe it could stay that way. All he has to do is ask Ocelot about the other Big Boss. He would know, wouldn’t he? He’d have the answer, wouldn’t call him crazy or belittle him even when it turns out he’s chasing phantoms. He’d be caring and understanding instead, like he’s always been towards him.

But the truth of the matter is still that he doesn’t know Ocelot all that well. Not that he can remember, anyway, and that’s worrisome. His memories remain an incomplete puzzle. Maybe in a roundabout way -

“Can I ask you something? It’s… kind of personal, so you don’t have to answer.”

“Hm? Sure. Shoot, Boss.” Ocelot shifts his weight — at first Venom thinks he’s going to touch his shoulder again, but he merely braces himself against the ground. Gets comfortable.  Doesn’t force anything.

“Back when we first met, in ‘64. We were on different sides, but I understand your mission was to support me.”

“That’s right.”

“What made you want to change sides? Become my - “ Follower? Friend? “Ally, I mean. It wasn’t because of Cipher, was it?”

Ocelot looks at him with a knowing grin that makes him look incredibly handsome, and Venom pictures in his mind’s eye what he must have looked like about 25 years ago.

“You’re asking what I saw in you.”

Venom gives an affirmative grunt. He’s not sure what kind of answer or explanation he’s expecting - maybe the same one all of his other men would give him, that he’s just that impressive and charismatic. Caring. Inspiring. Revolutionary. All those descriptors associated with Big Boss.

“A loaded question, indeed.”

“Like I said, you don’t have to answer.”

“I don’t mind. Let’s see… Are you familiar with Nietzsche?”

Venom cocks his eyebrows. “God is dead?”

Then he takes another sip because he feels like he’s gonna need it.

“Yes, but that’s not what I mean. You know how everyone, philosopher or not, unanimously agrees that pain and suffering is something you should try to avoid in life at all costs?”

“Well, it makes sense…” Venom trails off, remembering how much he’s dabbled in voluntary suffering just recently, like masochists do.

“That’s not what Nietzsche thought. According to him, a life without suffering is meaningless, because man creates the greatest things out of pain. It shapes and forms us. It’s how we manage to express ourselves and reach our full potential. Pointless suffering should be a avoided, sure, but most people suffer and endure for a reason, and subsequently become remarkable personalities and often leaders. That’s how you determine their worth. Nietzsche even went so far as to wish hardships on the people he considered dearest to him, rather than happiness. Now look at yourself. How hard did you have to work to get your body the way it is? How much did you have to endure in order to come up with and create this place?”

“That’s why…? It’s kind of funny hearing this from an interrogation specialist…”

“I never torture for fun, Boss. And I know you suffer every day,” Ocelot intones. “I saw it myself, all those years ago. It was beautiful. Never once did I feel pity. I just thought: this man will go on to achieve great things, and he is worth my time. You’re not driven by greed or outdated ideologies like the leaders of a country. You are driven by your suffering, and you don’t reject a life that’s inherently painful, and always will be. Because that’s just… being human.”

“Huh…” Venom ponders that for a moment, feels himself melt into a weird kind of comfort, leaning back and supporting his weight one one hand, like Ocelot. “I never thought about it this way.”

( **Didn** **’t you?** )

 _Didn_ _’t I?_

He can’t say for sure what he thought when he first met Big Boss, when he’d just been another recruit. If he’d just been superficially drawn to him and awestruck like most of his current soldiers, but that’s assuming that the other Big Boss actually exists, and as much as it makes his head and heart hurt he believes this to be the case, more and more, with each passing day. Having some certainty would be a relief, though, and the tape he still got isn’t enough because it might either not exist either or have been recorded by himself. There’s no telling for sure.

He just needs a third - perhaps just a _second_ person to confirm. It would be easy. Ocelot’s right here. He must know. But…

“You’ve always been a good soldier… Jack,” Ocelot says, a significant pause before the name. “But you’re also a great man. That’s why you’re the only one who can _be_ Big Boss.”

 _The only one_ _…_

Venom looks at him — _really_ looks at him. There’s a strange wistfulness in Ocelot’s expression that he’s only seen in the mirror, something - painful, and Venom wonders, for the first time, if he’s suffering too, that there’s something he doesn’t know and cannot see, and it makes something in his chest hurt in a way that feels more familiar than joy ever could, makes him think of him as a true comrade, makes him feel _closer_ to Ocelot.

Makes him shift closer to Ocelot. _He is_ , Venom mouthes, but no words come over his lips, his silence persisting, and when he sucks in the warm breath Ocelot expels, the man finally places his flat hand against his shoulder, but it doesn’t bother Venom.

“ - Five,” he gasps softly, and merely leans his forehead against Venom’s, who stills.

“Two plus two equals five.”

“Ocelot?”

“I need to go back,” he says, sounding out of breath. He avoids Venom’s gaze. “Kaz is watching after the men, but… you know how they are, lately. Rather not have another incident or someone running their mouth, especially when alcohol is involved.”

He gently presses against Venom’s shoulder, reestablishing some professional distance. Words echo in Venom’s mind -

**(We all have two hearts beating in our chests. One belongs to the person we have to be, and the other to the person we really are.)**

~~Big Boss~~ ~~Paz~~ Ocelot wouldn’t lie, right?

“Kaz - “

“Did you talk to him yet, by the way?” Ocelot says as he gets back to his feet, while Venom stares dumbly at the empty space he just left behind for a few more seconds.

“I think he’s waiting for you to approach him, like you mentioned the other day. And right now he’s…” He doesn’t quite know how to finish the sentence, starts another. “You really should talk to him. As soon as possible. He’s being insufferable - more so than usual.”

“Yeah, I will. After I finish this.” He holds up the can of beer, and Ocelot nods.

“Right. Try not to get sidetracked on the way.” Venom gives him a playful little salute with the bionic hand, single eye wandering back to the last remaining sunray cast across the sky before it’s suffocated like a candle, submerging the base and its struts in darkness.

He supposes he does have a tendency of getting sidetracked, and not just on base. After a few minutes, he hears music blaring from the upper deck, sees the men on the opposite platform messing around with the searchlights - trying to project some shapes and signs onto the nightsky, and he recognizes one of them as Batman’s trademark symbol.

He laughs inwardly, gives a toast to the moon, and doesn’t miss Big Boss. He tosses the can into the ocean when he’s done.

***

That’s when Big Boss decides to grace him with his presence.

He’s looking for Kaz while grabbing a second can of piss-tasting beer from the stash, following the more or less reliable advice of a couple drunken men (” - he’s prooobably having some quality time with Commander Ocelot right about now, if you know what I mean - “ ) as to his current whereabouts. He remembers Kaz to have been quite the party animal back when they’d still operated under the MSF flag, but these days he’s a little bit more… lowkey. Withdrawn. Not to mention that he probably didn’t feel like celebrating given what had prompted the party, so he’s making himself sparse.

There’s nothing too terrible going on either way with sober medical staff around, so he might’ve just headed to his office early to get some more work done, as he’s known to do - he keeps working until late at night even when he’s already _done_ all of his work; better to check everything twice to ensure their little paradise and its economy remains stable. Doesn’t want his dream to shatter and fall apart right in front of his (barely working) eyes again, so he holds onto it with all his might and then some.

Venom can’t blame him. It’s not he’s got anything else to live for anymore, and Venom himself -

“How considerate of you.”

He freezes dead in his tracks after rounding the next corner leading up to the second deck, deep in thought. His finger go lax and the can is easily removed from his fingers, cracked open with a hiss that stings in his spine like the memory of a needle a few weeks ago. Sudden fear paralyzes him. He wants to look back at the group of men he’s just left, whom he can still hear singing awfully over recent pop songs, check if they look in his direction… check if they see -

“Not enjoying yourself, V? You look pale.”

 _Don_ _’t get sidetracked._

The masked man in front of him speaks with Big Boss’s voice and blocks his way upstairs. His knee buckle almost, when he looks at His eyes, so he looks at his feet instead.

“Sorry, Boss… this is a bad time,” he says, sounding timid but untypically _dogged_ at the same time. “I need to take care of something. Please let me through,” he finishes, politely.

From the corner of his eye, he watches Big Boss leisurely remove the balaclava from His head, raise the beer to his mouth and drink, like He’s contemplating it.

“No.”

“Boss…”

“I also need to take care of something.” He throws the balaclava over V’s head instead, pulling it down, then grabs him by the wrist to lead him around to the other side of the platform, and V stumbles back downstairs again, after him. He can hardly see anything, but going by the general noise growing more distant they’re moving away from the men, and into a cramped storage room, where they keep the lifeboats. His one eye is blinded momentarily by the harsh red light when Big Boss pulls the balacalava off, and V’s knees collapse when he’s given the slightest push, _down_.

As much as he suspects - _knows_ that this shouldn’t be happening, there’s still the beginnings of arousal radiating warmly below his navel, maybe in part because he has no idea what it is that Big Boss wants, and that lack of knowledge is strangely intoxicating.

He grabs him by the chin, roughly, forces V to look up. He spots another one of those posters behind Him, **BIG BOSS IS WATCHING Y** -

“But you did enjoy Ocelot’s company back there, didn’t you?”

“I - “

Big Boss slaps his cheek, sips. “You want to fuck Ocelot.”

“I don’t - “

He’s slapped harder, and the sound reverberates in the small, stuffy room. V grunts, grits his teeth and growls through them.

“I don’t want to fuck Ocelot! _Sir._ ”

“Did you talk to him about me?”

That question catches him off-guard, and he thinks, _what if I did? Why is this more deserving of your ire than a critical decision I made in regards to base management?_

When he doesn’t answer, Big Boss smacks the side of his head again, brutally - the side with the shrapnel, and V loses his balance bracing himself at the last second. The underlying frustration and anger in his bristling reply surprises even him.

“I didn’t talk about you, alright! I know this is our secret - I wouldn’t want to put you into any danger - so just cut it out already!” He regains his center of balance, digs his fingers into Big Boss’s pants. “When are you finally going to fuck me, Boss!”

He expected the next strike, but he didn’t expect it to feel like it was going to crush his skull. Only belatedly - laying on his side on the ground - does he realize it’s because Big Boss had used the retracted baton.

“I’m impressed by how shamelessly you lie to me,” He says coolly, weighing the rod in His hand before putting it away again. Some blood glistens on it, and more runs down V’s face when he pulls himself back up with a groan. Fucking hurts, like his brain is pounding against his skull.

“Not about the not talking part. But if you’re honest to yourself for a second - you’re only really focusing on your own pain. Whether I’m here or not is actually not that important. You just want to hurt as much as possible, no matter what that means for others.”

Big Boss clicks his tongue, comes down to V to meet him halfway. The softness with which He speaks belies the cruelty of His words, and he dips His fingers in the blood on V’s face, wipes it away but only ends up smearing it over his cheek more. V licks softly over his fingertips when they push between his lips, tastes and swallows his own blood, shutting his eye to fight down the tears welling up.

“Shh,” whispers Big Boss, soothingly. He holds the beer to V’s mouth, makes him drink some of it before he finishes it himself, setting the can down. The warmth immediately settles in V’s belly.

“Are you going to be good again now, V? Are you going to let me take care of you?”

“Yes Sir,” V responds, swallowing back down the sob threatening to worm its way out. Big Boss is right. Big Boss is always right. He might not be real but that doesn’t matter because that doesn’t make him wrong.

“Do you know why I pulled you out tonight? What I needed you for?”

“No Sir.”

Big Boss gives a low hum, runs His thumb over his bottom lip, poking it.

“You didn’t drink very much. Are you thirsty?”

V’s gaze becomes vacant when the implication of that question sinks in, and he stoically gives the expected answer, “Yes Sir.” Big Boss stands, lazily works open His trousers, and explains with all the patience in the world:

“They’re locking themselves up in the bathroom, and I didn’t feel like heading to the next platform to check there.” He pulls His flaccid cock out, steps back to lean against the wall covered by the poster, and V crawls closer on his knees.

“I was this close to just pissing into the ocean when I spotted you. Figured I’d be doing you a favor.”

“Thank you for thinking of me.” V places his hands on Big Boss’s knees, runs them up His thick thighs, and eyes His dick, held in one palm.

He wants it and he doesn’t want it. He briefly presses his face against His leg, trying to dry his face with the fabric, get rid of the wetness.

“Open your mouth. Right now you’re nothing but my toilet. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” comes his muffled reply, and he dutifully looks up at Big Boss and opens his mouth so He can place the tip of his cock on his plush tongue. It triggers a pleasant pulse in the base of his own dick, his body responding to the abuse despite how repulsive he knows it to be.

 _I_ _’m Big Boss’s toilet. I’m Big Boss’s toilet. I’m Big Boss’s —_

He screws his eye shut. “Drink,” comes the order from above, followed by the weak trickle of something warm and salty and - he tries to swallow, once, twice, and then it’s too much and too sour and **repulsive** ; V starts to gag and tears himself away, resulting in a good amount of Big Boss’s piss ending up on his face and hair and the floor, before it stops.

He feels gross. Debased. Utterly objectified, and again his growing erection throbs in the constraints of his pants.

Big Boss groans, tiredly. Exasperated. He yanks V back by scalp, who gives a shriek. “I’m making a mess because of you,” He grumbles, tries to force his cock into his mouth, deeper this time.

“Boss please - I can’t…nggh,” V tries to fend Him off, however half-assed.

“You can,” Big Boss says, and the cockhead hits the back of V’s throat, where the warm stream starts anew, suddenly and without warning. V gags reflexively, tastes bile, attempts to push and wiggle free but this time Big Boss’s resolute grip is keeping him right where he is, keeps his cock and the urine inside his mouth forcing it down his throat.

But he can’t stop the gagging, the lewd wet noises that go with it, or the piss overflowing from his lips and running down his chin, staining both his shirt and the ground. It’s taxing enough just concentrating on his teeth, that he doesn’t hurt Him -

“Swallow,” Big Boss barks, intimidating V’s reflexes into compliance, and after a few more seconds - deep frantic breaths through his nose - he calms down just enough to ignore the acrid taste, and begins taking his urine inside himself rather than keeping it out.

He swallows rhythmically around Big Boss’s cock, muscles in his throat working visibly. He can’t swallow it all, not at once; he’s erratic and hectic and a panicked animal, but gradually his sips are becoming more, and he’s able to keep up with the flow of fresh piss running directly into his esophagus.

He hardly notices its bitterness anymore, after a while, and again that pleasant lightheadedness begins to set in, like he’s not quite there in his body, but merely watching.

“Good boy, see… tastes good, doesn’t it?”

Big Boss praises him, but V can’t acknowledge it. It takes minutes for Big Boss to be done, deliberately controlling the intensity of the flow to be slow and weak to make it last.

The moment he’s done and lets go, V crashes down to the floor and vomits back up a disgusting mix of urine, bile and spit, meeting the ground between his hands in a _splash_ , followed by a series of ragged coughs.

“V…” Big Boss sighs, all grit and disappointment, His stare judgmental.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” V squeezes out between coughs, still retching, but it’s mostly dry now.

“Was it too much? I didn’t think I’d have to work with you on _this_ …”

He knows it’s not over yet and that he’s not allowed to pass out when Big Boss violently makes a grab for his piss-damp hair again, the other palm quickly stroking His cock to life.

“Take yours out, too,” He gruffs. “Or do you want to come in your pants? God, you stink.”

V’s good, shaking hand drifts towards his belt, he needs several tries to unbuckle it, unzip the fly, and pull out his already decently swollen cock, which has left a stain of precum on his underwear. It doesn’t matter what Big Boss does, he always ends up hard, so aroused it feels like he’s burning up from the inside.

“Please… please fuck me,” he whines, because he can’t stand it anymore. He wants Big Boss to fuck him like he did the first time, after enduring His torture for hours, carried out by the hands of strangers. How much longer would this go on until he deserved it -

“I’m going to fuck your face,” Big Boss says and slaps His hard cock against his cheek, smearing precum over it. The tip pokes into his eye, stings. He’s already a mess. “Gonna fuck that gag reflex out of you. All that struggling does is wear you out, and I still need you for a while.”

Big Boss grabs either side of V’s head and rams His fat cock between his lips and down his throat. V’s eye rolls back in his head. His hand starts to move the same instant Big Boss’s hips do, snapping against his face hard and merciless like his balls, shoving his enormous cock down his bulging throat time and again, ignoring the natural resistance.

V gags, makes the desperate noises of a person about to suffocate and die. He has to remind himself to breathe, that he still has a nose. Big Boss shifts His angle, slams down, penetrates him even deeper, using his mouth like any other fuckhole.

“When I come - “ Big Boss gasps, narrows His eyes. One healthy, one damaged, unusually sharp and focused despite the dimmed light. “You’re gonna swallow, and keep it in.”

V’s reply is unintelligible, some kind of hum, rasp. His tongue darts out of his mouth, lips closed tight around Big Boss’s cock, molding himself to His size and increasing His pleasure.

 _i_ _’m big boss’s fuckhole_

V doesn’t consciously notice his own release when it spills over his hand, concentrating purely on the other man and his duty to Him. His vision swims and he’s out of focus, tears induced by the constant gagging and choking running down his cheeks. It’s growing weaker, and after a while, he’s almost unresponsive to the assault, his muscles pliable and lax. Big Boss comes after - he can’t say, after hours, maybe. His throat feels sore, abused, fucked raw, but he swallows every spurt just like Big Boss had demanded it.

And when His cock slides out and V sways, falling onto his side and into the small puddle he had vomited up earlier, he keeps it down. Licks over his own lips as to not waste a single drop, and savor the taste.

It feels warm in his belly, just like alcohol. The world spins.

“This is disgusting,” he hears Big Boss say, but He sounds dull, like through a glass dome.

“Clean up this fucking mess.”

“Yes Sir.”

V hoists himself to his knees, leans towards the puddle, sticks out his tongue.

_im bi g boss do g_

Outside, the men put on another cassette tape. It’s David Bowie, but V can’t recall the title.

***

He can’t recall how he got here.

Venom’s staring at his own reflection in the mirror above the sink. He looks terrible, older than he is. The tap’s running. He’s splashing his face with water and gurgling as much of it as possible to get the bitter taste out of his mouth, but it seems to stick. His clothes smell awful, too. He can recall the last night - no, the last few hours - only in bits and pieces, and concludes he must have drunk much more than he’d intended. Big Boss had never been much of a drinker, right?

Right?

He backtracks. He’d been supposed to go to Kaz. He’d met Big Boss on the way, and they - Venom curses under his breath, _fuck_ -

That’s when one of the stall doors bang open loudly, against the wall, and a soldier stumbles out.

“Ohhh man, I think I gotta puke again -”

Venom lopes after him and he yelps, wobbles, almost falls flat on his face but Venom holds him up by an arm. He knows this guy. It’s Mayfly from Medical.

“Boss, you…” He squints, laughs uncontrollably, high-pitched. “Wow, you look smashed!”

“Speak for yourself,” Venom says, assuming a stricter tone. “Are you high?”

“Nuh-uhhhh,” he grunts. “Just drunk as piss.”

“Right.” Venom begins to rummage blindly in his pockets, and promptly finds what he’s looking for: a small plastic bag containing white powder. Cocaine.

“Who did you get this from?”

“Uhhhhhhhh,” Mayfly drawls, tries to - very subtly - wiggle free of Venom’s grasp, but the grip is just tightened, eliciting a soft whine.

“I don’t remember. Sorry Boss. If ya want some too though you can have it.”

“That’s not what this is about! You know this isn’t -” The man slumps against him, a stream of vomit almost hitting him. Venom sighs and sets Mayfly down on the floor when he’s done, against the wall. Guy’s probably on cleanup duty again so he’ll take care of this mess himself, at least. He’s about to pass out, but Venom slaps his cheek lightly, two, three times.

He wonders what else has been going on -

“Would… maybe do you some good though, Boss, it helps to just… forget for a while…” Venom squeezes his shoulder.

“Forget what?”

“The… ahhh. Talkin’ too much. Just look after yourself, okay…? Did the uh, check-up… did it go well? Did Whale help… find anything, or -”

Now he recalls - the day of his medical exam, anyway. He’d mentioned the medic’s codename: Whale. That means… he can —

“…Boss?”

“Try to sleep it off, don’t take anything else,” Venom says, ignoring the question. “And after that you’re gonna clean up, you hear me? I don’t want to catch you with any drugs again in the future. I need to take care of something.” He just hopes Kaz is still awake and in his office. He’s not sure what kind of excuse to come up with this time, if he’s been waiting…

“Hmmnnokaaay.” Mayfly lays down on his side, and Venom feels bad about leaving him here, like this… but it’s not like his own head doesn’t hurt, too. He’ll live.

He leaves the men’s bathroom considering and replaying his last fragmented encounter with Big Boss, and he also thinks, grimly: _this needs to stop._


	10. Vindico

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I feel your last conviction_   
>  _And I’m underneath_   
>  _You kissed me with a bullet_   
>  _Between your teeth_
> 
>  
> 
> _You like the way that I struggle_  
>  _You’re my favorite sin_  
>  _I’m playing the willing victim_  
>  _And when I give in_
> 
> _You kill me every time_
> 
> ~ [Kill Me Every Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XuVLekHcHV0) \- Blue Stahli

Venom notes with some relief that the sun still hasn’t emerged yet when he makes his way back to the command platform (how did he even get to the medical platform?), meaning not much time must have passed between his talk with Ocelot and now. It’s the only conclusive evidence he has, which is something he’s been lacking so often when it comes to his perception of time, and the world surrounding him. Day and night, awake and asleep - two states that keep blurring together, and are difficult to disentangle.

He hates being trapped inside his own head, mind drowning in a sea of pain.

Venom heads towards Kaz’s office hurriedly with unsteady steps, knowing the way by heart so he doesn’t have to think about where he has to go. There’s a part of him that knows it could wait until tomorrow, at least, but another part urges him to do it now, to not keep him waiting any longer, and it’s the same part that had lead him through Da Ghwandai Khar in ‘84. _Don_ _’t get sidetracked_ , Ocelot’s voice echoes again.

And so he doesn’t, not even when he takes note of a vicious, drug-induced brawl (not even that, it’s a group ganging up on one man for - something relating to the animals - he can’t hear it all, just feet and fists slamming into a body) happening below him when he crosses the connecting bridge, pretending he doesn’t hear it.

***

Venom slows his pace when he approaches the door - MILLER, X.O. - alarmed by muffled voices coming from inside. He recognizes them immediately — one of them is Kaz of course, and the other…

“- and you were here the entire time?”

Ocelot. He can hear paws skidding across the floor as well, and Venom presses himself against the wall, slows his breath while his heart starts to beat faster. He doesn’t have to guess what — or who — they could possibly be talking about, and although he knows he really shouldn’t be eavesdropping he ends up doing it anyway.

“For at least four hours straight, yeah. Didn’t even take a piss, because I know how his timing is.”

Venom cringes inwardly. DD gives a short whine, as if to express his sympathy.

“Hmmm…” Pacing footsteps, accentuated by a slight jingle.

“Probably got trashed,” Kaz dismisses him, with a scoff. “It didn’t happen often, but boy, when it did, he couldn’t remember _anything_ afterwards. That or he just doesn’t give a shit anymore. You know, we actually used to _talk -_ but these days it seems like he just wants to distance himself as much as possible. Whatever’s going on in his head, he’s not letting me in.”

“That’s not good,” Ocelot admits. Of course it’s not good when there’s a rift between Big Boss and his subcommander - who’s also supposed to be his best friend. “You think the rumors are true?” He adds, and Kaz gives a bitter chuckle.

“Did he ever strike you as that sort of person?”

“Not really. But you’ve _lived_ with him longer than I have.”

DD shuffles and makes a sound, again, and Kaz hisses, “Not _now_ , DD.” Ocelot calls him back to his side, “Come here. There’s time for headpats later.”

Venom creases his brow, breath hitching: _I talked to much the other night_ _…_

Kaz heaves a gritty sigh. “Well, I’ll tell you this much: there’s never been much room in his life for anyone other than _The Boss_ ,” he says, and Venom presses his lips firmly together, chewing on his bottom lip a little. “But you probably know that already. Really doubt there’s another person that could knock him off his stride like that. And he doesn’t do -”

“He doesn’t do romance,” Ocelot finishes, promptly, as if on cue.

“If he manages to scrounge together enough libido to fuck you, you can already consider yourself lucky.”

“Speaking from experience, Miller?” Ocelot snipes at him - it was probably too tempting - and there’s an incensed silence.

“You’d be jealous if I was, right? Because he’s never even looked at you - “

“Assume what you want,” Ocelot replies, unperturbed. “I’m merely trying to figure out his behavior. Perhaps we are on the wrong track altogether, and it’s still lingering damage from the coma, or a result of PTSD… I’m not sure if it’s something we can fix without just the right kind of therapy, and for that you need a reliable diagnosis first.”

“So what do you propose? An intervention?”

“I’ll consult medical one of these days. _Try_ not to pressure him too much, Miller - he’ll just close up more if you do. Just concentrate on keeping Diamond Dogs functioning.”

“Tch, right.”

“Now, I’m going to tell the men it’s time for bed - and make sure no one’s ended up in the ocean again. I advise you to catch some shuteye too, I’m positive Snake’s doing the same.”

“Whatever,” Kaz grunts, and when Venom hears footsteps approaching him he quickly and quietly ducks behind the nearest corner for cover. The door opens immediately after, and Ocelot leaves the office, with DD at his side. While Ocelot doesn’t pause in his step, DD seems momentarily distracted, sniffing the air.

 _Go_ , Venom commands him mentally, when he’s trudging towards his direction -

“DD!” Ocelot calls, impatient, and DD lopes after him. Venom breathes a sigh of relief, giving himself a couple of minutes to consider that conversation just now. So they’re gonna do exactly what he’d already predicted: ask medical to fix him since something’s obviously _wrong_ with him — too bad he’s already been there and it hasn’t necessarily made him better. He starts to wonder if there’s a cure for this kind of affliction in the first place, that helps him divide his soul just right so one part can be Big Boss while the other serves Big Boss.

He knows he needs to fix this himself, he’s just not sure how or if it’ll work. There’s another reason why he feels that he needs to see Kaz now.

Kaz is the one with the base personnel files.

Five minutes pass and Venom knocks on the door politely. “Did you forget something?” Kaz says, believing him to be Ocelot, and then Venom just steps in to find the other man hunched over his desk. Drinking, smoking. Working, too. He looks at Venom nonplussed as he shuts the door behind himself.

“Ugh, that fucking stench -” Kaz grouses, “You’re drunk right now, aren’t you? I’m not sure I want to talk you to you when you’re - “

Venom wordlessly takes out the little plastic bag of cocaine, and tosses it onto Kaz’s desk. He stares at him, bewildered, and opens his mouth -

“I’m not high, if that’s what you wanna ask,” Venom interrupts. “I took this from one of the men. I’m not sure how much of this is circulating, but you’ve gotta do something about it. It makes them careless, more aggressive -”

“…That’s what you came here to tell me?” Kaz takes off his sunglasses, folds them together, and Venom’s not sure what to say. He came here to… talk about them and their relationship, didn’t he? But he’s not sure _how_ when all he wants to do is maintain a professional distance, not just for his own sake, but for Kaz’s, as well, because…

_How do I fix this?_

“Look, Snake,” Kaz breaks the silence, and Venom doesn’t think he’s ever heard him sound so _tired_. He catches him rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“We can’t continue like this. _I_ can’t continue like this. I’m not sure what happened in the past few years, but it’s gotten to a point where I don’t recognize you anymore. You used to talk to me about things, you - we used to be _close_. Like I was the only person you trusted with your fears and worries and… you _real_ thoughts. What happened?”

“Kaz…” _I don_ _’t know what happened._ He remembers Costa Rica, their ~~mutally exploitative~~ genuine friendship and laughter against the backdrop of the warm Caribbean sun. Kaz stands, rounds the desk on his walking aid.

“I can’t even be angry anymore,” Kaz murmurs with nostalgia, sits on the desk. The crutch is discarded, leaning against it. “You used to be, though. I remember one night, during the first year… when you were much more drunk than me, for some bizarre reason. I had to drag you away from the men before you would start a fight… say something you’d regret later. You were _ranting_. I remember thinking that I’d never seen you that talkative. That _intense_.”

Venom can’t remember it, though he feels himself wanting to, like it’s a door he needs to unlock and open to meet Kaz again. Like he’d done with Ocelot before, he moves closer, lets Kaz’s fingertips brush over his wrist and doesn’t withdraw.

“It’s like all your self-restraint had just crumbled away like a mask, and I got to see the real you. You beat the fucking daylights out of me over some trivial issue, put me in my place. You were so _pissed-off_ at… everything. It’s like you just let go completely.” Kaz laughs quietly, like it’s funny in hindsight. “And… well. Didn’t know what to think at the time, but at least you were honest then - involved. But even now you’re…”

“Did I fuck you?” Venom asks, listlessly. He’d been under the impression that Big Boss didn’t fuck around much, but it wouldn’t be the first time that he’s acted all wrong.

“Couldn’t walk straight for days,” Kaz says, nonchalant. “Felt you for days.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Of course you don’t, you hypocrite,” Kaz laughs again, leans against him, presses their foreheads together. “You forget the parts you don’t like about yourself.”

Venom feels himself stiffen, only momentarily. An internal switch is flipped. Then he feels himself move, like a puppet - grasp Kaz’s wrist and twist it, meeting his bleary, half-blind eyes with his own single one.

 _\- so show him_ _…_

 _\- and he_ _’ll know it’s still you…_

“Yeah - you know, Kaz,” Venom spits, twisting more until it elicits a whine from his subcommander, “There’s nothing fucking wrong with me. Maybe you should take a good hard look at yourself first - because, if you want me to be honest: I’m fed up with being scrutinized and questioned by you. I don’t owe you every last piece of myself, because I’m not yours.”

Kaz tries to pull away, but only intensifies the pain. “Snake - “

“ _Don_ _’t_ , Kaz. That’s exactly what you wanted. That’s why you reminded me. You want me to get angry at you, because it’s better than me being silent and ignoring you. You’ve always liked to play this kind of game. Manipulating me into doing what you want, giving you attention - and wouldn’t you know it, it’s working.”

“It’s no—ghhh,” Kaz groans when he’s handled roughly, flipped around and forced down onto the desk, its edge digging uncomfortably, painfully into his stomach. Venom pins his neck with his bionic hand, the other unceremoniously pulling at his clothes, around the waist; exposing him just enough. Kaz squirms under him, but it’s a half-hearted attempt that gives away how he truly feels about this.

Venom goes on, doesn’t think about what he says. The words come on their own, like they’ve always been there. “When you said, ‘I won’t look down if you take someone to bed’, what you really meant was that you wanted to be that person. You can’t stand the thought that I might have someone else, can you? That you and Diamond Dogs are no longer the most important things to me? Because if I gave this up, where would that leave _you?_ You’re being selfish and you know it. Because you’re not loyal to me. You’re only loyal to your _need_ of me.”

Kaz huffs, slamming his flat hand against the wooden surface, panting a breathy unhinged laugh, a tinge of desperation to it.

“Fuck me,” he growls, “Just fuck me like you used to, you damn bastard. I knew you were still fucking _there_ -”

“Of course,” Venom says, dispassionately, undoes his own pants and reaches inside to pull his dick out. Then he spits into his palm. “I didn’t forget about him.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                      ** _o p e n    y o u r    e y e s_**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When they’re done, Venom feels gross, like he hasn’t showered in days - even after changing his shirt and borrowing one of Kaz’s clean ones (a little bit too small, but it’ll do), he feels more disgusting than he did an hour or so ago, after Big Boss’s treatment. He wants to leave the office as quickly as possible, clear his head, breathe some fresh air.

He redresses Kaz - sleeping deceivingly peacefully - and carries him over to the small couch, setting him down there. Then he returns to the desk and his file cabinets, empties the bottle of whiskey and looks through his folders. Doesn’t take him long to find the one he wants: a particularly thick one labeled _base personnel_ divided by department _;_ including another one labeled _dismissed staff_.

He leaves without looking at Kaz again.

***

Venom stops only when he’s a good distance away from Kaz’s office, not far from his own room. He can’t spot any of the other men nearby, or hear any more music, so he concludes the party has officially ended. Just a single chopper circling in the distance, keeping up the illusion of a guarded base when it’s been anything but that for a while, now.

He leans against a drainage pipe, small light mounted overhead, picks out some of the files from medical, sorted alphabetically.

R, S, T, U…

V, and then -

Then he sees something move in the shadows, and he dodges the incoming blow before he reaches W, metal clanging deafeningly loud against the pipe.

Venom holds onto the folder firmly, catches the black baton with his prosthetic the next time it attempts to strike him, instinctively. He knows this isn’t an intruder, so he doesn’t counter.

“What are you doing?” Big Boss rumbles, reminding Venom of a volcano just about to erupt.

 _What am I doing?_ Venom doesn’t answer, just holds onto the blunt weapon defensively while Big Boss pushes against him with his weight, the only visible part of him - his eyes - narrowed into tiny slits, glancing at the folder under his arm.

“I told you not to worry about the details,” he snarls, and shifts his momentum suddenly, hurling Venom to the side with the baton, shamelessly exploiting the fact that he’s not as confident facing his doppelganger as he would be in a real fight. Venom’s shoulder hits the railing hard, and when the baton comes for him a third time, it doesn’t miss its target.

***

His weight rests on someone else for a while. He’s moved. Down, down, down. A door opens and closes and there are hands on him.

***

Again, he can’t tell how much time has passed, but judging by the morning light filtering through the grimy window — hasn’t been cleaned in what, months —, it must have been at least a few hours. Venom blinks repeatedly, bounces softly on the mattress when he sluggishly rolls over. He’s naked from the waist up — his prosthetic missing, too. He groans when he ends up resting his weight on a fresh bruise.

“What the - “

“So you fucked Kaz with an ulterior motive,” he hears himself say, realizing that the nightmare is not yet over. He focuses on the source of the voice - Big Boss, unmasked, sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, languidly leaning back and waving with the folder he had… borrowed from Kaz’s office, hoping it would help him solve this puzzle.

“Now that’s something Big Boss would do, huh?” A cigar is dangling from His mouth, jaw slack, and V breathes in the thick smoke wafting through the room. It stings in his eyes, and he feels like he wants to cry. He doesn’t say anything, looks somewhere else instead. At the photographs. At Paz sadly smiling at him, like she’s pitying him.

“What’s this sudden paradigm shift?” Big Boss muses, placing the folder down on the nearby desk - right next to the baton, V notices - and plucking the cigar from His mouth. “Oh, _I know_. You think I am merely a figment of your imagination, here to make your miserable life even harder. You’ve been hallucinating so much since you first came to, so it only makes sense. I don’t blame you. It’s not actually that simple, but nothing I can say will convince you. You see…”

Big Boss reaches for the retracted steel baton, weighs it thoughtfully in His palm. Considers it.

“Now that you realize that there’s no relief to be found even with me by your side, you’re not sure if you want it anymore. A part of you struggles, which is only natural. Even a drowning person will fight for survival and try to stay afloat as long as possible, even when there’s no shore or ship in sight. And so your dream is becoming a nightmare you can’t wake up from.”

“Please,” V whimpers, only half-listening.

“Please what, V?”

“I don’t know,” he says, helplessly. He doesn’t know anymore what he wants. He can’t stop thinking about Kaz, about DD, about what he’s done. _I don_ _’t want to hurt anyone anymore -_

“But I do,” says Big Boss. “I’m going to punish you. I’m going to make you suffer, until you let go again and nothing hurts. Bend over on the desk.”

V inhales, shakily, and resigns himself to Big Boss’s whims, because what else can he do — fight Him? It sounds ridiculous even in his own head. He drags himself out of bed and over to the desk, and bends over as commanded, assuming almost the same position as Kaz had last night, one-armed and with his pants around his ankles when Big Boss yanks them down to expose his bare ass. He hears steel hiss and cut through air when Big Boss thrusts the baton forward, and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Keep your hand where it is, here,” his Boss says, indicating the edge of the desk onto which V is holding. “And count, loudly. I want to hear you.”

“Yes… Sir.”

This time, he doesn’t get to dodge the first or the second strike, the thin end of the baton crashing against the sensitive flesh and drawing more than one whimper out of him -

“One,” V says, mutters. “Two -”

“Louder,” Big Boss orders, and brings His tool down with more force, hitting the same spot.

“Three,” V barks, all muscles tensing and pain flaring up. “Four - Five - Six -” The almost rhythmical noise of the weapon slapping viciously against V’s ass fills the room, always followed by the according number, laced with varying levels of stress and pain. Only at ten does He stop briefly, to tap the hot ash of His cigar right onto Venom’s already red, burning ass. He snivels a little. It’s not unbearable yet, but he knows this is simple foreplay, that Big Boss is just getting started.

“Tell me who you belong to,” Big Boss demands to know, the cool metal of His chosen instrument rubbing over the long crimson streaks, soothing the ache, however lightly.

“To you,” V answers Him. “Alwaysss—gnghh—” Big Boss picks up the pace again earlier than anticipated, this time with more leverage and momentum, His strikes becoming sharper, more cutting. More destructive.

“Start from one.”

“One!”

“Until thirty, and if you don’t count right, we’ll start all over again.”

“Yes Sir -” _Smack._ “Two!”

V’s body quivers and convulses each time He strikes his backside, and he ends up pushing the desk at least a few inches further into the room, but he never forgets to count - not until they hit the twenties, and not until his skin starts to tear, which is when a “Fuck!” comes over his lips rather than the number twenty-something.

“What was that?” Big Boss chides him, pauses, probes.

“Twen…twenty…four,” V tries. Big Boss harrumphs.

“Are you sure?”

“I am sure! Twenty-four!”

“Watch your tone,” He says, and strike twenty-five makes V howl in agony and black out for a second. So do the remaining five blows, hitting his thighs and ass and back — and when it finally stops, he becomes absurdly aware of the small rivulets of blood running down his thighs. His breathing comes in short bursts, erratic, like he’s just run a marathon, and there it is again: that pleasant, heralding prickle that’s so easy to focus on, that’ll soon start spreading throughout his body and just - forget everything else…

“Haah… hah…”

“That’s it…” Big Boss murmurs, setting the retracted baton aside and patting one ass cheek lightly, then kneading it, massaging the pain deeper into him.

“Just let yourself go. You don’t need to resist it. It all becomes part of you…”

“B… But I,” V squirms weakly under His calloused touch, moves just enough so he can look up at Him, behind himself. Big Boss spits onto his ass crack, pushes the saliva into and up his hole with two fingers. “If I keep - forgetting, how do I — how can I be — ”

_You?_

Big Boss shoves the rubber grip of the baton abruptly into him, and V almost swallows his own tongue. He drives its full length into his ass time and again, and this - this is the point where the combined pain becomes overwhelming, too much to bear. His own cock - hard, of course - sputters out precum in regular intervals, each time Big Boss flicks his wrist and rams into him, spearing him, fucking him open. V’s body is wrecked by both Him and the sobs he desperately tries to stifle as he clings to his consciousness. He wants to be awake, he wants to know what’s happening, wants to feel -

“Let go, V. You don’t have to keep hurting yourself.”

Too much. He starts to cry, and lets go, retreats.

_im nothing im a slut painpainpainnnn thank you boss thank you thank you im glad_

He went, and returns, but something tells him that his timing is off. He lays on his side, and again there are hands on him. They move over and across the bruises and gashes, a swab applying disinfectant. It stings, but it doesn’t bother him anymore. Venom remains awake throughout the entire procedure, but doesn’t say anything until the gauze is pressed to his skin, and the man in his back mutters something - he can’t make out the words. Gibberish.

“You’re still here,” V says, looking over his shoulder. He has to blink to focus his vision. Big Boss is tending to his wounds, takes care of him.

“You think I’d leave you like that?” Big Boss snaps. There’s a sudden ringing, piercing noise in V’s ears shooting down his spine and up to his head - it lasts only for a second, but it’s enough to make him curl up on himself.

“You’re not…”

“Are you okay?”

“Stop,” V hisses (why does he feel panicked more than anything else?), and blindly, aimlessly swings his arm until he hits Big Boss in the ribs. “Stop that -”

He goes again when a hand squeezes his shoulder. When he returns after that, Big Boss is done with patching him up, but still not gone.

He should be gone. Instead He’s standing near the desk, cleaning. Puts the medical equipment back into its bag. Looks at Venom’s collection of photographs, taps His fingers against them and the window, watching hungover staff return to their daily routines outside.

V stares at him, with wide, open eyes, until they’re dry and start to burn. He closes them and opens them again more than once and every time He’s still there. When his breathing shifts - just imperceptibly - Big Boss finally acknowledges him again.

“You still don’t believe it, do you?” He says, as if He’s read his thoughts. Of course He can read his thoughts. He’s not real - just like the pain in his entire backside.

“Of course not,” V says, detachment in his voice. “You’re just my fantasy. To fill the void -” Why else would He behave the way He does?

“You have a mission coming up this week, right?” Big Boss wanders over to the bed, sits down, and V sits up, scrambling closer to the headboard.

“What?”

“I’m sure your XOs would appreciate if a Medic came with you, given your condition. Just give the word, and you’ll see for yourself. …But even so, I worry about you.”

There’s no more space for V to retreat to when Big Boss’s hand reaches for his face, touching his cheek affectionately - stroking him gently, warmly. There’s genuine concern in His voice and eyes, and it throws V for a loop, like he’s —

Like He’s breaking character…

 _“_ There are just some things you’re better off not knowing about. And I will do whatever it takes, V,” He says, fingers traveling over the cheek up to where the shrapnel is, massaging around it carefully - and it immediately eases V’s headache. “To prevent you from ever reaching that point, even if that means we’ll have to fight.”

“You’re… protecting me?” Venom says incredulously, leaning into the touch despite himself.

“All humans will try to protect as much of their sanity as possible, often subconsciously. You think you’re going insane now, and perhaps you are - or perhaps you always were. But you’re also taking care of yourself, in the only way you know how to.”

“I don’t understand,” V laments, because that told him exactly nothing new about his mental state.

“That’s the point, V,” Big Boss smiles fondly, and then His fingers press against the shrapnel, pressing it deeper into his skull. Venom writhes, pain exploding in his head.

“You’re not supposed to understand.”

And then he’s gone, and this time, he doesn’t return. Not for a while.

Neither does Big Boss.


	11. Venatio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I am the one inside you_   
>  _And I am the one_   
>  _(Inside your veins)_   
>  _I am the one inside you_   
>  _Over and over I'm here again_
> 
> _There is so much more to this than_  
>  _Phantom limbs for amputees_  
>  _Here, dissolving through the trauma_  
>  _This is where you'll feel the breath of me_
> 
> ~ [Corner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zJJidE17Ks) \- Blue Stahli

Mother Base is runs on the hydroelectric power generated by several reservoirs, located in the lower decks of the base development platforms. Although strictly off-limits for anyone but the maintenance personnel - one mistake being enough to shut down the entire base and put it on emergency power systems - it’s common knowledge that some recruits manage to sneak into the facilities anyway, with or without help.

Their intention is never sabotage; rather, they are fond of repurposing the reservoirs as giant bath tubs. Sometimes alone for privacy, sometimes in a group to host their own little pool party because Mother Base doesn’t offer much in terms of relaxation, and leaving base for personal reasons always requires permission and the associated hoop-jumping.

Venom’s fairly sure at least one person has died in here, found floating in the open ocean a couple of days later, mangled by the turbine. Nobody wanted to know anything about an incident.

The steady, industrial hum of the working machinery drums into his head, makes him feel nauseous. The pull isn’t too strong if you dial it down, shutting most of the hatches; and if it’s only done for an hour or two the rest of the base usually won’t have to deal with any power shortages.

But it’s easy to forget, and easy to be too drunk to keep yourself afloat. Venom sits at the edge, watches the seawater being pumped up through a pipe and spilling into the reservoir. There’s something pulling him towards that body of water, the same kind of feeling he experiences when boarding the chopper and bridging the gap between his home and the rest of the world, tempted to take the plunge. He touches and breaches the surface with his fingertips, drawing random shapes and letters; a peace sign, a V, an S …

He gets up and shuts the hatches, wet fingers hovering over the control panel, considering, hesitating.

_Hatch 1 - shut_

_Hatch 2 - shut_

_Hatch 3 - open_

_Power at 40%_ _…_

His reason for coming here this evening is more practical, or so he’d like to think - his entire backside still hurts, and he can’t bring himself to use the communal showers because he dreads the reactions of his men… or the lack of a reaction. Or maybe that’s all just a lie and he wants to avoid being with people altogether.

He undresses, folding and setting his clothes down in a neat pile, then dips his feet into the cold water before climbing inside, submerging himself up to the neck. The saltwater stings terribly, inflaming the gashes that have resulted from Big Boss’s treatment, but he bears with it. He keeps to the edge, holding onto it with his bionic hand. He closes his eye after a while and tries to tune out the noise and his surroundings. Breathes in the smell, and his inner eye pictures the same view that’s been captivating him for some time now.

 _I_ _’m drifting, directionless, trapped by an endless vision of blue, reflecting the sky._

It’s the closest he’ll get to the scene of his private dreams, and after a while he lets go, drifts towards the center without forgetting to move his limbs, to make sure he doesn’t sink. The pull is weak and far away, and he feels weightless - and for the first time since all this had started, he finds himself able to relax.

To forget -

( **…someone else to make the decisions for you. You want to stop having to think so much all the time…** )

\- himself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _You have to shoot me_ _…_

_We_ _’ll meet again…_

_Boss_ _…_

 

 

 

 

 

He’s not sure when he stopped moving, when he started to drown, how much time has passed. He only returns to his senses when saltwater fills his lungs and something, someone’s invisible hands, grasp at his feet, pulling him deeper, making him sink like a rock. Pure animal panic overtakes him and Venom thrashes against the water resistance, struggling to reach the surface.

But he reaches it, his prosthetic crashing against the edge of the reservoir, and he pulls himself out at once, retching and vomiting up the water, replacing it with air. A soft, ghostly voice is still whispering to him, but he can’t make out any more words, and then it transitions back into the hum of the machinery as he returns to reality, regaining awareness.

_What the hell just happened? Did I pass out?_

It unsettles him how familiar that experience had felt, like the sensation of drowning isn’t new to him. Maybe when the helicopter crashed, or… even before that…

_\- Why did I even come here?_

He can’t remember. Once his sore throat has calmed down, he begins to clumsily redress himself, still shaken by the near-death experience.

_You know why you came here._

Venom stills. Maybe he does know, but admitting the truth, even in the privacy of his own mind, hurts more than any physical punishment ever could.

 _Because,_ he thinks, stares at his hands and lays down on his back throbbing with pain, _I wanted to die._

 _But you can_ _’t._

_***_

“You ready?” Venom asks, and gives DD an affectionate pat on the head. His question is met with a short, affirmative bark. Venom double checks his own equipment - standard loadout for what seems to be a standard extraction mission from what he remembers - and then they’re on their way to the helipad. Take-off is scheduled for 0600, since they’ll be in the air for a while. Sun’s just starting to rise, but will probably be setting again when they arrive.

He tries to carry on as usual, even though he feels dead and hollow on the inside. So does Kaz. He hasn’t spoken much to Venom lately, and whenever he had he’d been oddly agreeable and docile. He’s refocused his attention to base affairs and doesn’t meddle with his boss’s business or lack thereof. There’s guilt nagging at Venom over the fact that he’s secretly relieved to have Kaz off his back; guilt over thinking of him as a distraction, something like a… parasite.

It’s difficult enough just trying to take care of himself. Difficult enough for other people to notice how he fails at it.

“You bringing DD along?” Ocelot’s serene voice in his ear. He’s with the intel team, not seeing Venom off personally.

“Yeah. Been a while since I took him with me.” Venom doesn’t pause in his step, his full pouches and backpack putting more weight into it. DD’s padding along.

“A threeway then, eh? That’s a first.” Venom scrunches up his face, and Ocelot continues like he’s aware of it. “I think it’s a pretty good decision, you know. Sensible. I had a talk with the medical team, too…”

“What do you mean?”

“About your condition.”

Ocelot’s answer is curt. _Figured._ Venom doesn’t even want to open that can of worms again, so he ignores it.

“No, what _decision_?”

Silence. “The… medic you requested for, Boss?”

More silence. Venom’s next few steps are slightly out of tact, but he doesn’t stop. “I don’t remember.” He sounds apathetic. There’s so much he doesn’t remember already, what’s one more thing.

“…Well,” Ocelot says. For once, he doesn’t sound certain himself. _Did I actually talk to you about this, or_ _…_ “Either way, I think some company won’t hurt. DD does good by your side, but if anything happens to you he can’t do much - much less _tell_ us what the problem is.” The last memory of Quiet in the sandstorm plays again in his mind as Ocelot talks. “And I know you don’t like to hear it, but you _do_ have a hard time maintaining your focus lately.”

Venom grunts. Not much opportunity for backtalk there because Ocelot’s claim is on target, much like his aim.

“Right…”

And then he remembers something, for once. _Big Boss_ mentioned this. Big Boss - and Ocelot just talked about a medic that would accompany him. Does that mean he’s… Venom opens his mouth to ask about the guy’s codename, but Ocelot temporarily cuts the transmission with the words, “We’ll go over the mission details once you’re en-route. And one more thing, Boss: given where you’re going this time, I think we’ll all be feeling a little more at ease if someone’s there with you to keep you grounded. Best man we got, too… And you _did_ ask for a challenge, didn’t you?”

_Wait, where am I going?_

Venom halts, and finds himself at the helipad. Three men greet him with uniformed perky salutes. Venom’s attention is commanded by the sky, so bright it almost blinds him, when a heavy gust of wind first hits his face, generated by the rotor blades of the approaching chopper. Its arrival is marked by the upbeat, electronic [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1HpdleCgeg) blaring from the external loudspeakers, growing louder. He vaguely remembers this track and its distorted lyrics.

 

_I'm searching for a whole new beginning_

_An endless void_

_This notion that I sense within me_

_You're still by my side_

 

_Oh, I feel your presence_

_You'll never leave here_

_But if I reach out there to hold you_

_Every part that's real disappears_

 

And he also remembers this particular scent, even amongst the overwhelming vastness and smell of the sea filling his nostrils; easily filtering out faint traces of cigar smoke and blood. He remembers this step, heavy and measured and full of purpose, full of promise. He remembers his gait, his penetrating gaze. His voice, even when he doesn’t say anything, breathing more life into him than air ever could.

Venom turns, acknowledges Big Boss’s arrival. He’s acknowledged by everyone else, too, all eyes on him, though nobody says a word.

 _And I remember your face, even when you don_ _’t show it._

He’s carrying a sniper rifle on his back, a pistol, and medical supplies, of course. MED says the patch on his combat vest. DD cants his head at their new companion, and curiously sniffs his legs. He produces a low, guttural noise at the back of his throat, something that wants to be a growl but isn’t quite yet, and Venom knows him well enough to read it as an expression of confusion.

 _So you_ _’re really…_

“You ready?” Echo his own words from before. Big Boss brushes past him, takes his seat in the hovering chopper. DD trails behind with an uncertain whine.

 _Or am I really going insane, and everyone else along with me_ _…_

Venom stares off into the horizon for a couple of beats, eyes vacant. He’d been so sure, so convinced, that Big Boss was merely a ghost haunting him, perhaps even the direct manifestation of schizophrenia. Something he could get rid of if he just found the courage to fight hard enough.

“I hope the three of you have safe trip, Boss!”

\- But he’s right here. He exists. Venom nods absentmindedly, fingers trembling, jaw tensing; every wound that Big Boss has ever inflicted on him _hurting_.

(But not his head.)

He follows suit and boards their vessel, shutting the hatch behind himself.

 

_As I become more present now_

_I can't see through the pain_

_A hollow cut through my veins_

_(the phantom takes his toll)_

_The days that just keep on coming_

_The stain that they leave_

_I wish I could break this casket_

_But I'm left here to grieve_

_In a world of my own design_

He sits down across from Big Boss, and DD paces a little before settling down, at his feet, nudging one with his snout. He catches only hints of his own reflection in the glass behind his partner due to the daylight, unable to make it out clearly, and he wonders what Big Boss sees from his position.

“Ready for take-off - “ The pilot’s voice drones on, melting into background noise just like the rotor blades, and the dulled music.

“It’s going to be a long trip and we’ll have to refuel on the way, so you can take another nap before……”

This scene feels as familiar as the perspective feels wrong. Like they are supposed to switch places. He stares intently at the Medic in front of him and the Medic stares back.

“Something wrong, Boss?” He asks, quietly, when the chopper lifts and carries them off towards the mission site.

“You tell me,” Venom snaps, chest feeling tight. The other man cants his head questioningly.

“Relax,” he says. “Just take it easy. I’m right here with you.”

 _That_ _’s what worries me._

He says nothing else, eye wandering back to the window, to Mother Base growing smaller in the distance. _A Phantom Pain_ tapers off into an instrumental, and finally silence.

 

_As I become more present now_

_I can't see through the pain_

_A hollow cut through my veins_

_(the shadows take their toll)_

_And did you leave me anything?_

_You're the phantom of my past..._

_Do you expect me to last, this way?_

_(a scar and a phantom pain)_

_***_

_Unknown Location,1988_

 

He’d followed Dragonfly’s advice - their pilot for this mission - and closed his eyes after a while rather than trying to make conversation with his Medic. He opens them again to the sound of clamorous thunder and metal screeching, and the crisp silhouette of his reflection is the first thing he spots, the combination so unnerving that he jumps a little, half expecting them to start plummeting;  a bird shot out of the sky. Blessedly, they don’t.

It’s dark outside, rain drumming against the steel husk like gunfire.

Big Boss and DD are taking naps, too, unperturbed despite the storm Dragonfly has to maneuver them through, and he does so quite gracefully. Speaks of his skill.

“You up, Boss?” Dragonfly asks him over comms. “ETA 10 minutes. Commander Ocelot wanted to speak to you, should I put him through?”

“…Yeah,” Venom murmurs, wiping over his damp face. A thick fog has rolled over his mind again - he knows he’s dreamed something but he can’t grasp it. Can’t remember.

But the resulting dread lingers.

“Alright,” Ocelot’s pleasantly familiar voice comes on, providing a mental foothold. Venom leans back in his seat, watches Big Boss sleep.

“Like I told you before, it’s a simple extraction mission… or should be. One of our missing intel agents has sent a distress call a couple of days ago. Least I hope it was him - we couldn’t trace the location - “

“Wait, what?” Venom interrupts. “You’re going off unconfirmed intel?”

“Even then you’d want to go anyway, don’t you?” Ocelot counters, firmly. “That’s just the kind of man you are, so I figured we might as well forego the discussion this time. Best case scenario, you find him and get him out. Worst case scenario… it turns out to be a trap.”

Something begins to dawn on Venom, and he shifts around in his seat just enough so he can catch a good glimpse of the landscape - the coastline and steep, jagged cliffs he’s sure he’s seen (scaled?) before.

Same for the buildings and communication towers coming into sight. An imaginary fists punches hard into his gut, making him feel sick; cold sweat beads at his temple.

“Camp Omega,” he says, stiffly. It doesn’t actually look alive, blanketed by darkness. “It’s still operating?”

“That’s the thing,” Ocelot replies. “It’s been officially shut down four years ago, so the place should be abandoned. I couldn’t get my hands on useful intel regarding its current state. It’s possible that other groups have started to use it for their own clandestine business - that’s where our agents come in handy, so you might learn more from him. _If_ you find him, that is.”

“Are you sure one of ours made the call?”

“No, Snake,” sighs Ocelot, resigned. “I’m not sure. We just got a tape containing the location and a request for help in morse code - soon after he went missing in Nicaragua. A cassette tape. It was recorded over a track from… what’s the band called? Gymnastics?”

“…Eurythmics,” Venom corrects him, “ _Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This_?”

“That one. It’s pretty catchy.”

Venom bites down on the tip of his own tongue, taking a deep breath though his nose. This feels just like… the cat and mouse games from over a year ago…

Big Boss is still asleep. His double is wide awake by this point, and air rushes out of his lungs in an anxious sigh.

“You want to call off the mission, Boss?”

“No… is this why you approved of me bringing someone else along? Because it might be a trap? Or because - “

“ … or because I worry that it might fuck with your head, going back there?” Ocelot cuts him off. “Let’s just settle for both.”

“Fair enough.”

He can’t say that Ocelot’s worries are unfounded. He’d supposedly died here, over ten years ago - as had the old Mother Base and most of those that had called it home. This had been the catalyst for all the events that had followed up until this point.

This is where he’d saved Big Boss, and failed to save someone else. That’s the truth as it had been told to him.

“Let’s just hope,” Venom says, mildly uneasy, “That I’ll find who I’m looking for quickly.”

He doesn’t want to be here any longer than he has to.

“Take care of yourself, Boss. I won’t be able to help you out this time.”

“Got it.”

That marks the end of the transmission, and Venom curiously watches their descent - _ETA 5 minutes_ -, flying only ten, maybe fifteen meters above sea level.  He rubs along DD’s spine to wake him up gently, and Big Boss starts to stir soon after.

“It’s time,” he says, picking up his rifle, and Venom remains quiet, eyeing him warily.

“Touching down…”

DD disembarks first once the hatch is pulled open, hopping out of the helicopter, hovering near a cliff’s plateau, overseeing the camp - _I remember this_ \- and Big Boss follows after him.

Venom is about to leave last, when -

“Hey, Boss?”

Dragonfly is gesturing him over to the cockpit, comms turned off and his voice drowned out by the other noise. Frowning, Venom navigates through the narrow space.

“What is it?”

“ …I don’t really have a good feeling about,” he hesitates, keeping his tone hushed, “This.  Please, please be careful, and watch your back.”

“I got two buddies that’ll do that for me,” Venom both reassures and dismisses his concern, and goes to join the other two, already waiting for him in the pouring rain.

“Be on standby.”

As soon as his feet touch the ground, the chopper takes off again. DD’s fur is already completely soaked, and his Medic stands to the side. Venom’s own uniform feels clammy on his skin. He carefully climbs up some slippery rocks to use the elevated position as a vantage point to survey the camp with his binoculars - it appears deserted, no signs of activity whatsoever. The facilities don’t look live they’ve been maintained for a while, either, caked with rust if not battered down due to neglect and the relentless weather.

But appearances are deceiving, he knows. There’s no way it can be that easy - especially not if someone is supposedly held captive around here.

He shares Dragonfly’s assessment - he also doesn’t really have a good feeling about this. He looks back at Big Boss - but there’s no way he could have anything to do with this… he’s been at base the entire time. Busy with…

_Busy with what?_

DD sticks to his heel, keeping to Venom’s side while fixating the third member of their party, growling quietly in his direction and poised to attack.

“DD,” Venom chides, tries to calm him. It’s like the dog is aware of his own emotional turmoil and inherits the tension - and recognizes Big Boss as a foreign body.

“You’ve got to train him better,” Big Boss comments nonplussed with a hand on his hip, shifting his weight. The mud squelches under his boot. “Seems like he still has trouble telling friend and foe apart, after all this time.”

“ … “

“ _Orders_ , Boss?”

It sounds so wrong coming from his mouth, and for the briefest moment Venom feels out of his element. A fish tossed onto land, with only marginally less flopping around.

“You still remember the layout of this place, right?”

“I do,” Venom snaps defensively. He doesn’t. Not in great detail. Not like he’d personally walked the paved roads and narrow paths between cages and tents.

“There’s not too much ground to cover. I’ll go alone. I want you to stay with DD and find another vantage point to survey the camp and provide fire support if needed.” He raises two fingers to his ear. “Report anything unusual to me.”

DD objects with a bark, but Venom shushes him.

“Affirmative,” says Big Boss. “Don’t take too long.”

Venom has to throw DD a harsh scowl to get him to follow Big Boss, and then he’s on his own.

Maybe.

 

***

_United States Naval Prison Facility, Cuba, 1988_

_Camp Omega_

 

Venom doesn’t encounter a single soul during his endeavor to mentally map out Camp Omega again, the gray mist wafting between the buildings bestowing the eerie atmosphere of a ghost town upon the area - on top of fucking with visibility even more. The security cameras and searchlights are all out of commission, so he’s making quick progress, too. He almost expects some remaining, wandering members of the Skulls to ambush him any second now, even though they should have long been dealt with.

But the same can be said for all the other phantoms of the past that keep haunting him.

His warm fingers brush over the rusted and cold metal bars of an empty cage. _Chico, it_ _’s me_ , echoes his voice from the past, and he continues out of the enclosed area towards a slope, uphill, keeping to the shadows. He follows the invisible path Big Boss has walked before him. _Where_ _’s Paz?_

Sounds on a tape guide him towards where he needs to be - someone whimpers, an engine roars, metal screeches, a gate opens and shuts, reverberating footsteps.

Melancholic music…

 

 _Here_ _’s to you_

_Nicola and Bart_

_Rest forever here in our hearts_

_The last and final moment is yours_

_This agony is your triumph_

 

Staccato whiplashes, punctuated by screams.

“Does it hurt? You can speak, can’t you? Then talk. …Good boy.”

Venom stops dead in his tracks, out of the rain and on the stairs to the basement below the main building. He grips his pistol tighter. He’s not sure if he’s just heard that, or if it was another ghost of a memory, revived in a place where everyone else had died.

It sounded like…

“Your Boss and I go way back. Don’t count on him coming to rescue you… if you’re a real soldier, you find your own way out.”

Venom moves towards the voice, flattens himself against the wall. They must be close - he waits for another snippet of conversation, but all he gets is,

“ - here. You _earned_ it.”

And then there’s music again, but it’s different from before. Slow and distorted - like the tape’s damaged - and lacking the prominent driving beat, but he can make out the lyrics clearly. They chill him to the bone.

 

 

 _Sweet Dreams are made of this_ _…_

 _Who am I to disagree_ _…_

 _I travel the world and the seven seas_ _…_

_Everybody_ _’s looking for something …_

 

 

He _knows_ this place is fucking with his head, and for a split second he considers giving Big Boss a call, if only for reassurance, his hand hovering over the radio. Ultimately, he doesn’t, feeling as though he needs to do this alone - that he cannot rely on what should be a phantom to chase away other phantoms and uncover reality.

 

So he goes, and follows the music to its source.

 

 _Some of them want to use you_ _…_

 _Some of them want to get used by you_ _…_

 _Some of them want to abuse you_ _…_

 _Some of them want to be abused_ _…_

 

The scene he finds is intimately, uncomfortably familiar: a female prisoner strung up in a secluded part of the machinery room - a makeshift cell - whom he immediately recognizes as Paz. But it’s her as he’d attempted to save in the chopper, not her as on the medical platform, suffering dissociative amnesia, or the girl she’d been before plunging into the sea the first time, only to be pulled out and subjected to Skull Face’s torture. Venom knows that she’s not real and he doesn’t care, because he can’t stop the emotions welling up, prompting him to act without thinking. Only in passing does he take note of the cassette player in the far corner.

Holstering his gun, he rushes towards her and cuts her loose, and her almost lifeless, bloodstained body falls into his arms.

 _The scar in the shape of a V stitched across her stomach. His own bloody hands digging into her, ripping it out like a fetus from a womb. There_ _’s another, she stutters. Flashes of her falling - the bomb blast knocking them out of the sky - Boss -_

“Pain… is an illusion. Pain is in the mind…” She utters with what seems to be her last breaths, as she’s bleeding heavily from her abdomen and through her filthy pants. Venom cradles her, touching his healthy palm to her cheek. “Chi…co……” She looks at him with open, bloodshot eyes but only sees through him, on her way out.

“I’m… so sorry, Paz,” Venom says, voice quivering, crushed by the guilt he’s still not absolved himself of. Tears are beading at the corner of her eyes before running down her temples, and he has to blink rapidly himself to refocus his blurry vision.

She’s so fragile. So broken and so far gone and still it has never felt like she’d blamed him for anything. He screws his eyes shut and pulls her closer when she exhales her last sigh.

“So sorry that I couldn’t… save you from this. That you had to suffer for this long. That you had to be alone -”

“Are you crying for me?”

 _Click._ The music changes, transitions into a calmer, melodic, peaceful [instrumental](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AWNXEGZXLKA).

He looks up. In the darkness of her cell, only sparsely lit by LEDs of humming machinery, he sees someone else standing in front of him: his gaze travels up rain boots and to a blue skirt falling down to and covering her knees.

Paz lowers herself to his eye level, looking healthy and wholesome. Untainted. She smiles her angel’s smile and her blue-green eyes shine bright, full of life - just like on the photographs back in his room.  But she doesn't appear faded. She's vibrant. Venom’s attention flits from Paz to the other Paz in his arms and back again, at a loss for words.

“I wasn’t alone, though. Chico was there with me. We endured it together, he and I… and because of that… I know it probably sounds silly,” she laughs sheepishly, in her sugar-sweet voice, brushing some loose strands of soft blond hair behind her ear. “But I was… kind of happy. Even knowing that peace would never return. Even knowing that I would never learn what freedom is… having a real choice.”

“What are you?” Venom rasps, his voice close to breaking down.

“You’re still dreaming,” she says, playfully lacing her fingers together. “The same dream, over and over… waiting for a conclusion that never comes.”

Her smile turns sad. Pitying him.

“You could not save me, but… you’re trying to save yourself. The real you. It is just so difficult, because he’s always watching us… Big Boss,” she intones the name, rolling off her tongue like the fearsome title of a great beast. “He won’t let us go. I gave my life for him so long ago, to protect him, and I’d hoped… from the depths of my heart… that my feelings would reach him, keeping my silence and true self locked up. You’re the same, aren’t you? You just want to be there for him, like Chico was there for me. Like DD is there for you.”

She pauses, thoughtful.

“But it is maddening, being in so much pain, having to be this strong. And your choice will not be without its consequences. Sometimes we will do terrible things and hurt each other, even if we don’t mean it… Your suffering doesn’t just affect you. It affects everyone around you, everyone who cares for you. It is a continuous cycle, like the snake eating its own tail.”

“Can I… leave him?” Venom questions aloud.

“Do you want to?” Paz asks. “He’s made you into the man you are. Everything leads back to him. Without him I wouldn’t be me, and you wouldn’t be you.”

“I don’t know… I feel like I need to, not for myself but… for the others, I need to… save…”

“You need to save them,” she finishes. “You need to be there for them. Because Big Boss isn’t there for them. But…” With downcast eyes, she makes a small, stifled noise.

“But?”

“Even then,” she says, “His influence is like the venom of a snake. Once you’ve been bitten, you cannot escape a gruesome death, and the suffering that precedes it. You can never go back to the peaceful days. If you want to stop this… I think you know the answer already. But you will not like the truth.”

“No, I _don_ _’t_ know the answer,” Venom grates with irritation, lifts his hand and reaches for her. Paz shies away. “I don’t understand anything. Paz, tell me what to do. What do I have to do to make this right? To stop myself from hurting anyone else? To keep our home from falling apart - to keep the peace - “

“Peace never lasts,” she says, and when Venom’s bloodied hand misses her arm by an inch, she presents her own, flat palm to him. “Peace is unnatural. It cannot persist for very long, just like you can only admire the beauty of a butterfly for a brief moment. It will wither away and die if you touch it. And, Snake…”

His own hand is so much larger than hers, which is small and petite. He can’t resist the pull, the desire to touch and make sure she’s real, pressing his hand against hers -

“I forgave you a long time ago.”

_...Your real name is Pacifica Ocean._

The next time he blinks, the base has come alive. Blaring, deafeningly loud alert sirens have replaced the soothing, peaceful music; emergency lights flooding the hallways in red, walls plastered with posters of Big Boss’s face, blood smeared across them; **BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS IS WATCHING YOU BIG BOSS**

Paz is nowhere to be seen.

There are hurried footsteps and agonized cries behind him, gunfire in the distance - the impact of something exploding up above. Venom moves suddenly as his instincts kick in, drops the body in his arms, not sparing the corpse a second glance. The corpse of a man.

There are others, when he he breaks into a sprint to reach the surface as fast as possible, to get out of this death trap. Mutilated and scorched soldiers are blocking his path, reminding Venom of walking corpses - most of them moving sluggishly, or erratically, like they are drugged or not sane or - like puppets on strings… Venom slams them reflexively into the walls, hastily finishes the faster ones with bullets to their heads. Only when he’s past the gates does he halt briefly to examine one of them, stepping into a puddle of blood and…

 _They_ _’re sporting the MSF insignia on their shoulders…_

“What’s going on,” he heaves, catching his breath and feeling himself grow cold, color draining from his face. “What the hell is going on!!” He shouts frantically, into the void, lost and confused amidst the chaos that is his life crumbling around him, losing his foothold.

 _Breathe. You_ _’re not alone. I’ll give you directions._

He flicks the switch of his radio. “B- Ishmael, can you hear me - “

Static. The rain has stopped, but the mist has gotten thicker, impenetrable; it’s hard to make out anything out in the open like this. The air smells and tastes like ash. A couple of words come through, as the radio crackles alive once more, but there’s too much static, making effective communication impossible.

“ _-  what - told you - have to -_ “

Venom starts running, unsure of the direction. There’s a pillar of fire in the distance, burning bright and radiating heat, so he uses that as a landmark, making his way towards it. Other puppet soldiers appear in the fog and leap at him, clawing at him in their frenzy like rabid animals, some of them being picked off by a sniper, but not all of the shots are on target - he thinks. “What the - “ He curses when a bullet whizzes past, grazing his arm, tearing at both his uniform and his flesh. The next one just barely misses his head, and he throws himself to the ground behind cover, heart thundering in his chest.

A couple more gunshots are exploding in the distance, each one a clap of thunder.

He can’t _see_ anything, doesn’t know where he’s supposed to go, or where Big Boss is - what Big Boss is even _doing_ right now - _is he trying to kill me_ -

And it’s so tempting to just give in to unconsciousness again -

 _The same dream, over and over_ _… waiting for a conclusion that never comes._

_So stop waiting._

There’s a high pitched, heart-piercing animal howl in the distance that jerks Venom back, sobers him up. _DD_. He pushes himself back to his feet, stumbling, dodging the possessed MSF soldiers coming his way - though there are no more gunshots -, dashing several hundred meter towards that singular noise, like his own life depended on it.

He only finds a trail of fresh blood smears on the ground, some bushes of short grey hair soaking in it.

“ _Booooossss_ _… why… did you… leeaaaaveee… come… back…… it… huuuurts…_ ”

Venom uses one of his last bullets on the soldier knocking into him, ignoring his garbled, unintelligible moans, then follows the trail to one of the armories.

The door’s ajar. Venom kicks it in regardless, finding Big Boss kneeling in front and leaning over a much smaller frame, four-legged and furry and unmoving. Big Boss’s hands are covered in latex and blood.

Venom charges at him, mind blank with hot white fury. He hurls him against a wall, smashes his elbow into his face and roars.

“ _You did this - !!_ ”

DD gives a soft whimper behind them, but it barely quenches Venom’s own unprecedented rage. He grabs two fistfuls of Big Boss’s collar and pounds him into the wall again with all of his weight, baring his teeth in a vicious snarl.

Big Boss’s expression is unconcealed, and solemn.

“I did this?” He barks a sardonic laugh, then casually rams his fist into Venom’s face, meeting it with a crunch and causing him to stumble backwards.

“Maybe _you_ did this. Maybe this is all your fault. I’m just here to _help you,_ ” he spits, and Venom covers his face with his arms when Big Boss assaults him, and finally punts him into the ground hard enough that he cannot get up again right away.

“Give the dog to me. Let me take care of him,” Big Boss demands.

“No!” Venom protests, and throws himself between Big Boss and DD, covering the injured animal with his own broad body.

And then…

“And what’s this supposed to be?”

…and then the barrel of his own gun is pointing at Big Boss’s head, fixing the other man to his spot.

“No. You’re not touching him.”

His hand is shaking as much as his voice.

Big Boss scoffs, unimpressed. “He won’t survive, then.”

Venom shakes his head, his crooked finger tightening around the trigger. He thinks he finally knows the answer. How to stop this… the only way to stop this. _It_ _’ll all be over soon._

“You’re crying, V,” Big Boss comments, serenely.

“…I know,” Venom says, tears running down his scar-littered face, falling from his chin. Big Boss’s face is a blur in front of him, unrecognizable, but it doesn’t matter.

“I know. Because I can’t save you, Boss… I can’t even save myself. But I’m afraid of what will happen if I… if I don’t do this now. I’m sorry, I need to — “

— _save me from myself_

Venom closes his eyes, presses the cold barrel of his gun against his own temple.

And gives Big Boss up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 _I can_ _’t remember…_

 

 _It all blurs together, past and present_ _…_

 

 _Someone was yelling something, pushing me back_ _…_

 

 _An explosion of fire next to my face_ _…_

 

 _Metal splitting my head apart_ _…_

 

 _The sensation of falling_ _…_

 

 _The shattering impact_ _…_

 

 _The air being squeezed out of my lungs as I drown_ _…_

 

_And finally somewhere, at the bottom, however fleeting,_

 

_Peace._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But actually camp omega is silent hill  
> also the version of sweet dreams venom hears when approaching paz sounds [kinda like this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDPn4d651zM), or at least thats how i imagined it


	12. Vestigium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _You're pushing me to the brink_  
>  _My body is yours, you've won_  
>  _I'm finding it hard to think_  
>  _I'm breaking it from now_
> 
> _You're pushing me to the brink_  
>  _Feels like the air is moving through me_  
>  _And I'm holding my breath_  
>  _I reach out_  
>  _I reach out_  
>  _I'm reaching out for all you are_
> 
> ~ [All You Are](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSxzzDE38t8) \- Memtrix

_Unknown location, 1988_

 

_Peace never lasts._

Paz’s words still ring in his ears, her warning reaching the lowest levels of his subconscious - deep down where nothing exists, not even himself. They infiltrate and flow into the empty silence, causing it to burst.

And with it, his head. There’s nothing but pain, exploding in his forehead when he’s violently dragged out of limbo. The world exists only in contrasts of stark whites and blacks. A dark shadow against the blinding overhead light, moving about, but Venom can’t make out any details. Every fiber of his being rejects being here again - rejects the resolute hand at his shoulder, holding onto him as if he were to drift away otherwise.

He wants to fade away, wants to flee to that place where time is meaningless, where pain isn’t real, and stay there. That place that Big Boss always sends him to, giving him just a taste of death every time they are together.

 _You don_ _’t have to keep hurting yourself anymore._

But every time he needs to come back. Because they are not done yet. They will never be done. And it starts again.

“You — what were you even thinking, I can’t believe — what the hell is _wrong_ with you?! If it weren’t for this…”

Words trickle from the mouth of the man above him into his own, and he breathes them in. Gentle pressure against the loose shrapnel in his skull when bandages are wrapped around his head, soaking up something wet, and Venom’s vision blacks out several times, like his brain is short-circuiting. Fragmented memories flicker in and out of focus, resurfacing only for split seconds from the primordial soup of his mushy mind, bleeding into each other. Voices sounding like those on a damaged tape played back at twice the speed.

_he died protecting you and pain gets the better of us all nothing to be ashamed of its what he wanted and by becoming you theres another he protects you again okay ahab time to go you have made me believe that this will not be the end for me ive been watching over you for nine years dont count on your boss coming to thank you my friend ive cheated death thanks to you too have known loss and that loss torments you still revenge was the only language left to you hope that hatred may someday replace the pain and effort that keep me alive will never know relief never bear fruit never be repaid but it never goes away it maKEs a mAn hIDEouS_

**_INSIDE_ **

**_AND_ **

**_OUT_ **

“ …you’d be dead.”

The bullet only hit the shrapnel, the flash scorching his skin. He lives.

He lives, suddenly sucks in the air greedily after holding his breath for way too long. It’s followed by a sob that wracks his entire body. Everything hurts, like he’s being burnt alive.

_they should let the poor thing die_

“We’ve gotta fix this,” he’s told, with a slight tremble that must be imagined, but it doesn’t sound like it’s addressing him. Venom’s eyes are open, but he’s only partially there, awake but not. His limbs won’t move, like he hasn’t used them in years. Like they aren’t even there.

“I’ve… got to fix this.”

_hold up lets fix this next time do it yourself_

“Okay,” Venom croaks, and passes out, the pain too much to bear.

He knows it won’t be long until he wakes again.

 

 

***

 

 _“ - just what in the world happened out there?! What happened to_ **_him_ ** _?! I expected him to get better, not worse! I thought you_ _’d -”_

_“ - I can’t say. He… I think revisiting Camp Omega triggered a PTSD episode… he’s suffering from extreme mental distress right now. He’s disoriented and a danger to himself and others. I… need some time to stabilize his condition and treat him…”_

_“You what? You want to play therapist now? I don’t think after that -”_

_“Give me a few days. I’m going to fix this. I just need to talk to him, I’ve helped others like this before. Got the training and everything. He’ll be fine…”_

_“……”_

_“Really, I - “_

_“I know what a guilty conscience sounds like. He’s sought you out before, hasn’t he? Or was it the other way around…”_

_“ … Just let me try. If this doesn’t work out, then…”_

_“It better. Otherwise, I’m not sure what’s gonna happen next. To him… or to_ **_you,_ ** _my friend._ _”_

 

***

               

 _Mother Base, Seychelles Waters, 1988_

_Room 101_

 

The rich, tangy smell is the first thing his senses take note of when he returns to the waking world, and he effortlessly recognizes it as one of Big Boss’s cigars.

That, and the fact that he’s not lying horizontally on something soft this time, but sitting straight up instead. His arms are unavailable, twisted onto the small of his back and held together by some kind of hard restraint that scrapes against his prosthetic and presses coldly against his wrist.

Venom blinks the sleep out of his eyes. He knows where he is before he takes in all the details, and it’s unsettling, to say the least. He’s not wearing anything but his pants and boots, the feeling of déjà-vu washing over him immediately.

It’s his own torture chamber, Room 101, flooded by menacing red light that stings in his eyes. He seem to be alone, his stirring and huffing only generating minimal noise and echo. Regardless of that, his heart starts to beat faster as if on cue, anticipating what’s in store for him after… after Camp Omega…

Venom winces, wants to touch his forehead, eyepatch replaced by bandages. _I_ _’m still alive_ , he thinks, but relief doesn’t accompany those thoughts, only despair. He hangs his head, shakes it weakly, and wishes he’d believed in a merciful God - but the only God he’d ever believed in is Big Boss, who is the Devil to non-believers and has no mercy left to spare.

This is his Outer Heaven. A place where you are neither alive, nor dead. Venom tries to get his erratic breathing and thoughts under control, then looks about the stuffy room to assess his situation fully. The usual equipment’s all there, and more. An ashtray with a burnt out cigar on the table next to him. A tape recorder. The baton.

And in the far corner a tripod with a video camera mounted to it. The red light is on, indicating that it’s recording. Venom stares at the dark lens.

 _What in the world_ _…_

The heavy door swings open suddenly, startling him. Footsteps. A trolley is pushed into the room, followed by a man, and then it falls shut again with a sense of finality.

Of course the man is Big Boss, standing in the same position - submerged in shadow - as V often had while silently observing the interrogations Ocelot and Kaz used to conduct. It’s bizarre - not because of where Big Boss is standing, but because of his own position and perspective.

Big Boss doesn’t turn to him immediately. When He steps into the light, V can make Him out more clearly: He’s turned in his Diamond Dogs uniform for the same outfit He had worn years ago when He’d fucked him the first time, sporting primarily black leather that looks criminally good on Him, complementing His battleworn appearance and dominant personality.

V’s dick throbs traitorously in the confines of his pants, and he hates himself for it, averting his gaze. Like Pavlov’s dog…

 _Not real_ , he tries to convince himself. _None of this is real. Not the pain, not the arousal. It_ _’s all in my head… I’m doing it myself…_

It surprises him that Big Boss doesn’t attempt to fill the silence with His own words. Like He doesn’t even need to say anything. His judgmental, oppressing eye bores into V. He’s finally wearing the eyepatch V’s lacking now.

“…About DD,” V starts. No matter what happens to him now, he hopes DD didn’t have to suffer for it, too.

“He lives,” Big Boss grunts. “No thanks to you.”

“That’s good.”

One burden less, for the time being. He hears Big Boss snort, then suck in more air to speak.

“But this isn’t about your dog. Just what were you thinking… pulling a gun on yourself…”

He can barely suppress the anger in His voice.

“Telling me some bullshit about how you’re _so afraid_ what might happen otherwise. After all I’ve done for and given you - including this life - and that’s how you repay me, by carelessly throwing it away!” Listening to Him talk, rising in volume, hurts in V’s ears.

“Like it means fucking nothing. Like you get to make that choice -” He advances, and V sinks deeper into his seat. Big Boss hand darts for his face, his throat constricts - but it’s just his imagination, because Big Boss’s fingers grab his jaw instead, yanking it up. Forcing him to look.

“Look at me when I talk to you, stupid whore,” He spits viciously, and even V can tell it’s on impulse, the verbal blow. He’s angry. Mad. It’s just spilling over now, without much thought behind it. He wedges His thumb between V’s lips and pins his tongue down.

“Who do you think you are? You _don_ _’t get_ to die on your own terms - “

\- that’s when two rows of teeth snap together, trapping Big Boss’s thumb between them. He bites down with all the force his jaw can muster. Big Boss growls, tears His hand free and reflexively backhands V sharply across the face.

There’s blood glistening on his throbbing cheek, and more dripping from Big Boss’s injured hand, but Venom doesn’t even acknowledge it. Stares dully at the camera in the corner instead.

“You’re recording this,” he says lamely. “Why?”

“You want proof,” Big Boss says, wiping His hand against His pants with disdain. He dismisses that recalcitrant behavior quickly, much to V’s surprise. Like He’d already expected it. Calculated for it. “Though I’m sure you’ll find a way to deny even that. You deny everything that doesn’t fit your reality. Everything that conflicts with the narrative of your personal tragedy, so you can avoid the cognitive disso - ”

 _\- ciative amnesia, where memories are blocked out to protect the mind_ _… and dissociative personality disorder, where the whole personality changes…_

V’s eyelids suddenly feel very heavy. Ocelot continues to recite himself in his head,  _I_ _’m not sure if it’s something we can fix without just the right kind of therapy, and for that you need a reliable diagnosis first._ He casts Big Boss a sidelong glance.

_…I worry about you._

There’s something he wants to say, but before his obfuscated thoughts can materialize into words, Big Boss is on the move again - grabs the baton, readies it, steps behind V’s seat to abruptly press the full length of the rod into the spot above his Adam’s apple, pulling it towards His own body with two hands like it were a noose.

He can’t breathe. His neck is forced to bend to a painful degree, and for a moment he thinks that it will snap. He faces the ceiling but Big Boss’s stony face obstructs his view, watching his pitiful struggle for air with indifference, and that’s exactly how He sounds.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To choke to death like that? By my hand? You’d call that mercy. But when you’re actually face to face with death, our instincts will urge us to fight and survive. Self-preservation… we are all driven by that selfish desire. Even now I can see the fear in your eyes, your silent plea for me to stop and let you breathe. You don’t really want to die, V, even when it means that others will suffer for it. That is the foundation upon we soldiers live, thriving on other people’s misery. What you’re really afraid of is something else entirely, and I’ll help you remember what that is. Because even if you don’t believe it… I’ve always cared about you.”

The edges of his vision become black. V thrashes uncontrollably with his whole body against the baton; deprived of oxygen he feels himself nearing another temporary death, eyes rolling back in his head. Big Boss won’t budge, only keeps him calmly in place, pinned to the backrest.

“—cchkkk!”

“Don’t worry, that’s not your limit,” He says levelly. “Know this: death is not something you choose for yourself. It won’t be over until _I_ am done. You… we’re Big Boss, and I - everyone - expects you to endure this pain, silently. That is the world we have to live in. The only world we can live in. You need to search for peace _within_ those boundaries.”

_cant breathe cant breathe cantttt brea_

\- and then he can. He slumps forward, greedily sucking in the stale air, coughing. His throat feels raw, tight.

He knows this is only the beginning. When Big Boss does torture, He doesn’t half-ass it. Doesn’t stop until He’s gotten what He wanted, until He’s done molding the person like clay in His hands. The question is _when_ He reaches that point.

“I’m fed up with — with this!!” V rasps, irritated, pulling at his bindings to no avail. “Always the same, always… more abuse… more cryptic bullshit…” V swallows, trying to wet his dry throat. “Just… I don’t get it… what’s the point…”

 _If you_ _’re not going to fuck me_ , his thoughts intrusively complete the last part, and he bites down on the inside of his cheek.

Big Boss does not answer. He rolls the trolley further into the room, picks up a canteen from it, unscrews it, with all the patience in the world.

“Drink,” He orders, holding it to V’s lips. “All of it.”

He almost doesn’t, stubbornly throwing his head to the side, but this time he really is thirsty - not least because of the treatment he’d received just now. He finds that it’s only water, too, and willingly swallows most of it when Big Boss pours the contents down his throat.

“Good boy. You can behave so well if you want to. You weren’t always this bratty. Do you get a kick out of it?” Big Boss wipes over his mouth, then pats his cheek lightly, talking to him like a father would to his retarded child. V jerks his head away, but Big Boss touches him anyway, gives an amused snort and a lopsided grin. He has more to say yet.

“You know why this room is called Room 101?”

“1984, by George Orwell,” is V’s listless reply. Even he knows that, though he can’t fathom why literary allusions are suddenly important.

“Right, the torture chamber in the Ministry of Love. It’s where broken people are subjected to their worst nightmares and learn to love Big Brother again. Winston Smith was sent there so he could be fixed, when he lost his faith and tried to escape the system. He betrayed both himself and his own lover in the process. That was the entire point.”

He sets the empty canteen aside.

“You… think you’re fixing me. You really… you’ve…” V laughs, but it’s a shrill, serrated kind of laugh; the one that makes a person sound absolutely insane, and then he stomps his feet and yells, “You’ve done jackshit to fix me!! All you’ve done is make it worse! You - “

“Wanted this,” Big Boss interrupts, calmly. “You wanted me to tear you down and fix you back up. Or did you _forget?_ ”

 

**(I WILL TAKE MY SWEET TIME TO COMPLETELY DESTROY ~~YOU~~ ME)**

 

He remembers. V’s mouth hangs open. He closes it, words stuck in his throat, swallowed down together with his childish outrage. Big Boss leans down, trapping his face between his leather-clad palms. Venom can’t escape his visage, overbearing.

“We both made good on that promise. But now we’ve reached the end of the road, and it’s time to make a U-turn. Once you leave this room, you’ll be fixed, V… that’s my promise to you. And then we can start over. Together.”

Looking into His eye and feeling His warm breath brushing softly over his own chapped lips, V wants to believe it. _As long as we_ _’re together…_

He tilts his head as much as Big Boss allows, eyelids lowering, and allows himself to be kissed, craving something innocuously soft granting him some respite from the ongoing brutality. It’s chaste and unhurried, involving no tongues, just a pair of lips moving against another one. For a fleeting moment, he forgets, and just concentrates on Big Boss’s mouth, the gentle hands at his cheek that had choked and backhanded him mere minutes ago.

 _I need_ _…_

His mood swings in the opposite direction the moment Big Boss parts from him, and he grits his teeth when the man moves away, molars grinding together.

“It’s time for you to be alone with your thoughts for a while,” He says with a humorless smile, switching off the camera. “That’s kind of scary, isn’t it?”

Then the light. Big Boss leaves Room 101, locking the door behind Himself. V remains where he is, bound, in darkness and silence, but there’s no peace to be found.

 

***

 

He doesn’t know how much time passes. Hours, perhaps days. His stomach starts to hurt at some point, and that’s how he can tell that he hasn’t eaten in a while. But that won’t kill him. That’s not what bothers him.

He can’t sleep or even meditate, and he wonders if it was really just water that Big Boss made him drink. It’s easier to blame Big Boss for his restlessness, his thundering heart and frantic breath, like the darkness is going to suffocate him. He can’t stand the silence, the lack of outside stimuli - save for that lingering scent he associates so strongly with Big Boss. Not when he’s awake. Not when his mind races because he’s cut off from everyone else. His brows and back are slick with sweat.

Big Boss isn’t here. He should be glad for the peace His absence brings, and yet he’s muttering _come back_ over and over, his own voice the only one to fill the silence.

_dont leave me here alone_

 

***

 

“Do you know what this is?”

V looks at Big Boss with hooded eyes. The man is comfortably situated in a seat facing him, the trolley at His side. He’s picked up a weird looking syringe from a case, the contents of which V can’t really see at this angle (but he can see that the camera is recording again). Hours of sensory deprivation in the soundproofed chamber have taken its toll on him, and the voice hurts in his ears. V’s reply is weak, quieted. Subdued. His resistance has withered down, his pulse has slowed.

“…Another shot?” He guesses by the shape, inadvertently thinking about his last visit to medical, the shots he’d been given there. Maybe another muscle relaxant, but … the needle’s too thick to pierce skin…

“Something like that,” Big Boss hums ambiguously, and places it aside for the time being. He busies himself with V’s belt instead, making quick work of it, and V doesn’t even attempt to dissuade Him from whatever He’s got planned now.

“I forgot to do this last time,” He says, unzipping the fly and pulling the pants down to the knees, and V ever-so-subtly, unwittingly, lifts his hips just an inch to make it easier for Him. Big Boss is quick to comment on the state of his arousal when his cock is freed, standing at half-mast: “This happens whenever you’re alone with me, doesn’t it? You just can’t help it.”

“ …I just can’t help it,” V parrots, and he sighs when Big Boss’s cool fingers touch his cock, tugging at it lazily, stroking it up to firmness.

He doesn’t want to enjoy this. He knows he’s going to, anyway - torn between his deeply instilled desire for this man from another life, and the reality of his situation, and even that’s fuzzy. For all intents and purposes, this is self-inflicted torture.

And still -

He winces when Big Boss withdraws, exchanging His fingerless biker gloves for latex ones. He picks up the syringe again, steadies V’s cock with the other hand, pulling the foreskin back. Venom squirms, not sure what to make of syringe nearing his cock -

“Boss, what are you - “

“Shhh,” Big Boss says, lining the nozzle up with his wet cockslit, and V gives a shuddering gasp when he feels the cold metal enter him, just a tiny bit of it. “Hold still. It’s just lube.”

Big Boss presses the plunger slowly, shooting the lube down his urethra. V curses under his breath; he’s never felt fucking anything like this before - like reverse pissing, only that it’s cold and thick, and his thighs tremble with the effort to sit still.

“What… ah, why - “

Big Boss gives him a sly smile, setting the syringe aside, grabbing his cock with the other hand and rubbing His thumb over the head - thinning out some of the lube and precome already leaking out.

“So I can fuck your cock,” He says nonchalantly, pumping his dick a few times with light pressure. “ … Or rather, to check that your urethra’s unobstructed and working as it should, medically speaking.”

That’s when it dawns on him, and V tries to masks his discomfort with a nervous chuckle, blinking the sweat out of his eyes. _Oh, well then._ That’s not the weirdest thing to be done to him.

“Look, I’ll even start you off small,” Big Boss says generously, presenting a long, curved sound to him, but even with the low diameter it looks scary, like it’ll spit his cock apart and cause irreversible damage. “Don’t move, or this is going to _seriously_ hurt.”

“… Yes Sir,” V says obediently, before he can even realize that he’s momentarily slipped back into his submissive voice in order to comfort himself. The sound is aligned with the tiny hole in his glans, and Venom automatically tenses up when it slides inside, inch after inch, sinking into his cock and stretching it painfully -

“ — ffuck, fuck, ah — !“

“Good boy, you’re doing so good,” Big Boss praises, massaging the base of his cock, and it’s so soothing… He pushes it deeper, all the way down to his balls, and his dick feels so fucking _full_.

“Endure this for me. Make me proud.”

“Yes, _yes_ , I will, just - ”

“For me.”

“For you.”

 _My voice isn_ _’t my own when he does these things to me_ , V realizes, somewhere hazy, when he looks at Big Boss delicately fucking his aching cock with the sound, a combination of lube and pre-ejaculate dribbling from the tip, squeezed out around the sound. He shoves it as deep as it’ll go with the next thrust, and V mewls, feeling an entirely different pang of discomfort when it pokes into his full bladder. And then again.

He sighs a breath of relief when Big Boss pulls the sound out, but it doesn’t last when He proceeds to replace it with a thicker model that makes him go pale.

“Now this one.”

“I… I don’t think I can… ah, nn — !” His half-hearted protests fall upon deaf ears, and Big Boss slides the new sound into his dick, stretching his urethra even wider, opening up his cock.

“You can,” Big Boss assures, shoving it so deep, making it feel so good, despite everything. “You can take so much. Don’t sell yourself short. Stay with me this time and see for yourself.”

“Boss…” A moan spills from his mouth, unfettered, when Big Boss fucks the sound in and out of him a few times, dragging along the sensitive nerves inside his cock repeatedly.

And then it hits his bladder again.

“Ghh - ”

He’s given a moment to catch his breath when Big Boss stops, and V immediately feels guilty, as if _he_ _’_ d done something wrong. He opens his eye in time to see Big Boss squirt some more lube onto his fingers, pulling His chair to V’s side.

He knows what He’s about to do, and Venom lifts his ass up without thinking, allowing Big Boss’s hand to slip between his cheeks easily, going straight for his asshole to finger it loose. What follows after that, then, he finds hard to describe adequately; Big Boss’s fingers arc against his prostate, milking it efficiently, resuming the ministrations of His other hand at the same time - the sound sliding in and out the entire length of his cock. V’s body moves in the same rhythm, chasing after the pleasure - but -

“So - so nice, it’s… Boss, ah, hahhh…  I… Boss - “

“I like that face,” Big Boss comments, probing and thrusting but never stopping. “And that voice. When you’re all mine.”

 _I_ _’m gonna cum so hard,_ V thinks, his mind having relocated to his cock. _So, fucking, hard, my dick_ _’s gonna explode -_

But then it hits his bladder again, much more persistently, and there’s an imperceptible shift in the way Big Boss’s fingers massage his prostate, wedging themselves deeper, closer to the bladder.

Making it much harder to hold it in, relaxed as he is now. He grimaces, the first reluctant drop of urine dribbling down the underside of his cock at the same time.

“What’s wrong?” Big Boss asks, mischievously.

“I’m… if you don’t stop, I’m gonna - “

“Do it. Let it go.”

He’s pushing and squeezing from both sides, like He’s intentionally wringing him dry - and V gives up, just lets it flow, his own piss spilling slowly from his prick.

“Shhh — _Shit!_ ”

The fingers are pulled from his ass, and the sound obstructing the stream of piss is also removed. V shudders, slumping against his seat, and he can’t stop pissing - his body overstimulated and his nerves frayed - not even when something else, something hollow, is held to the head of his stiff cock, catching the urine.

“There you go,” Big Boss says, patting his thigh.

“What the hell,” is V’s breathy response, _still pissing_ , and it takes at least a minute until his bladder’s empty, a few more drops traveling down to his sac.

“Don’t you feel better now?”

The hand that sharply yanks at his ponytail betrays the concern in His voice, and V is made to stare up at Big Boss’s imposing figure again, and the olive drab canteen in his right hand, the liquid inside swirling, provocatively.

“…No,” V says meekly, shaking his head, _don_ _’t force me to do that again_ -

“Drink.” There’s no compromise in Big Boss’s voice when He jabs the canteen’s opening against V’s lips, forcing his head back more, forming an almost vertical line with the canteen, the contents spilling out and trickling into V’s mouth no matter how hard he presses his lips together, how desperately he refuses.

“Swallow your own piss. All this time you’ve been pissing everywhere like a stupid, misbehaved dog. Open your mouth.”

Knowing it’ll be over faster if he just does as told (though that prospect scares him on its own, cause what else does Big Boss have planned?), V parts his lips, letting his own piss flow down his throat, and the first torrent is so heavy that he can’t adjust in time, triggering his gag reflex even harder. He chokes all the way through it, making guttering sounds, but Big Boss doesn’t let up even for a second, His grip resolute. Not until he’s swallowed it all down.

“ … fucking sick,” V heaves, futilely trying to get the awful, disgusting taste out of his mouth, spitting onto the ground repeatedly. Then he growls at Big Boss’s turned back, full of spite: “You’re sick.”

“Speak for yourself, V,” is Big Boss’s composed rebuttal, when He puts the canteen away and sorts out some other tools instead, tugging the latex off His fingers.

“I don’t see your erection flagging any time soon. Do you?”

V’s gaze automatically drops to the heavy arousal standing upright between his legs, pulsing, hot, wet.

And it’s the first time the shame has ever been so gutpunchingly real.

 _Doesn_ _’t matter what he does, how insane and disturbing this gets_ , his inner voice whispers, _he could gut you open and fuck your corpse you_ _’d still get off on it._

“That… doesn’t mean this is not - “

“Venom Snake,” Big Boss says in a commanding tone, and that and the name - the first time he hears it from his mouth, from anyone’s mouth actually - cut him off, making his attention snap back to Big Boss’s face.

“No, you’re not actually much of a snake, now that I think on it,” His Boss contemplates, and V’s gaze wanders over His broad shoulders and arms to His hands, holding more leather. He needs a moment to recognize it as a dog collar, similar to the one they had put on DD for a short time, before he’d decided that he didn’t like it.

“You’re a filthy dog, so I’m going to treat you like one.”

“Are you,” V begins, when Big Boss winds the collar around his neck and fastens it, so tightly that it actually cuts into his air supply, “Are you serious - “

His face is slapped the instant Big Boss is done, giving him a dour look.

“Dogs can’t talk.”

 _He'_ _s serious. Of course he’s serious._

To his own surprise, he falls silent immediately, sits stoically and unmoving in his seat, even when Big Boss rounds it. He doesn’t jump even when the restrictive pressure at his arms disappears, allowing him to move them freely, and the restraints clatter to the ground. Big Boss, never in a rush, picks them up before He tilts V’s chair forward abruptly, and he hits the ground, grunting, cushioning the impact with his own freed hands, though his healthy one is drained of most of its strength.

He attempts to sit on his haunches, but something hits his head and grinds it into the ground; the shrapnel drilling itself deeper, painfully into his skull, blood trickling out of the crack, and the shock makes him scream, his vision flicker out briefly. Only belatedly does he realize it’s the sole of a boot against his temple, pinning his head.

“Down,” says Big Boss, despotic, His expression twisted into a frown. V attempts to fixate Him from the corner of his eye, towering so far above him. “On the ground, where you belong.”

His cock twitches against the grimy, piss-covered floor, spurting more precum, the rest of the lube still inside his urethra. Big Boss is stepping on him like he’s nothing more than an ant, infinitely small and insignificant compared to His overbearing presence, and all he can think about is how fucking hot that makes him feel. Burning up from the inside.

He’s not sure if his head is spinning because of the impact, or because he’s so turned on it actually physically hurts.

He groans quietly when Big Boss’s boot relocates to the spot between his shoulders blades for a moment, pressing down there - reinforcing His order - before He makes his way to his legs, pulling off his pants so that he’s naked. He doesn’t bother with the boots. V waits patiently where he is, not moving a single bone - there’s only the subtle heaving of his chest.

Then Big Boss bends down, hooking something into the small ring at his collar: a leash. He says nothing. He walks back around to V’s front, torturously slow, every footstep reverberating, and all V can see of him are his black boots.

“You made a mess just now, mutt,” he hears Big Boss say, and V’s world narrows down to the sound of His voice, the intonation of every word. “Clean it up.”

V stirs, carefully and non-threateningly pushing himself a couple of inches off the ground, without looking at Big Boss. He scans the ground quickly for signs of wetness, the piss that didn’t fill up the canteen. It’s not much, but it’s spread out, and he needs to turn.

Big Boss suddenly yanks at the leash, and V yelps.

“There better not be a single drop left,” He warns.

“Yes —” Another sharp pull cutting off his air, and another pitiful squeal.

“Dogs,” Big Boss chides him, “bark.”

And V barks softly, awkwardly imitating the noises he’s so often heard coming from DD. It sounds pathetic, and Big Boss snorts a laugh, then says, “Good, good dog.”

The humiliation seeps into every part of his body, soaking it up like a sponge while he’s working the floor with his tongue. He laps up his own piss, meticulously cleaning the ground off all traces of urine and leaving his own slobber all over it. It tastes gross, his mouth feels like a container for garbage, licking up the dirt from people’s boots together with the piss. His massive erection swings back and forth between his legs with every bob of his head, throbs under Big Boss’s watchful gaze.

He swallows repeatedly when he’s done, tries not to dry retch. Tongue like sandpaper.

“Now my boots,” Big Boss says, pulling the leash towards Himself, and V follows after it, crawling on all fours.

“Make them shine.”

Even in his own head his answer isn’t a _Yes_ anymore. He barks his confirmation, more confident this time, but still deferring. He feels the purest kind of animal joy wash over him when he starts to enthusiastically lick over the supple but grime-covered leather of Big Boss’s boot, not moving onto the second one until the first one reflects the light.

“Such a good boy,” Big Boss reiterates, and V glows, his belly feeling pleasantly warm, _I_ _’m good, I’m good, I’m a good dog._ Big Boss leans down, strokes over his mussed hair, then over his spine, resting his weight on his back briefly. It leaves him only to return again, this time in the form of Big Boss’s knee, digging sharply into one of his shoulder blades and forcing V to stop, his cheek hitting the ground. He gives a confused whine, his ass up in the air.

A cut-off howl follows next, when something hard and cold is rammed into his ass, but he knows the feeling well enough at this point to know it’s the baton, lodged in and sticking out from his hole.

“Wag it,” Big Boss commands, covering one of V’s ass cheeks with His large palm. “Wag your little bitch ass and show me how happy you are.”

V swallows, then starts to pant heavily, mouth open, tongue out. He clenches down on the baton in his hole and wags his ass as much as he can while he’s on his knees, with Big Boss on top of him, the baton moving up and down.

Big Boss laughs, and His flat hand cracks against his ass, then a second time when V shakes harder, more fervently.

“You’re so into this.”

“Hah… aahh, hah… mhhh… ah, ah, ah — “

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we? There’s so much more I wanna do to you.”

A last slap for good measure, and Big Boss’s weight lifts off him. V collapses, the baton slipping out of his ass, resulting in a loud _bang_ , but Big Boss doesn’t seem to pay it any mind. He tugs violently at the leash, attempting to drag V with Him, but he needs a moment to reorient himself and gather up the strength. Then he sluggishly crawls after Big Boss, following the line of the leash, his arms and legs trembling, unsteady.

He follows Him all the way across the room, to where a hair-raising meat hook dangles from the ceiling. They’d never used that contraption much in the past, something which V is silently grateful for. Big Boss seems to have other plans, however.

“On your feet,” He says, pulling V up by one aching shoulder. He stumbles upright, almost falls over. Big Boss catches him, grumbling.

_you could overpower him if you tried hard enough_

_strangle him with the leash_

_escape this_

V doesn’t listen to his inner voice, just obediently presents his wrists when Big Boss asks for them, trapping them in the hard cuffs of a short spreader bar. He reaches up to pull down the hook, attaching it to the bar when V lifts his hands over his head. It pulls V up a few inches so that only the tips of his toes still touch the ground.

“Talk,” He says, returning his voice to him.

“…How much longer,” V asks, tired and hurting. He’s facing a mirror, mounted to the wall in front. Installed there for psychological reasons, when they treated their prisoners like this.

“However long you’ll need.”

Big Boss leaves him, then, and V stares at his own, authentic reflection. It reminds him of the time he’d been violated by the group of soldiers, with Big Boss watching; he doesn’t look much different now, only with less cum splattered all over his body. Pathetic and weak, resigned, with a raging hard-on between his thighs. Bleeding.

 _Doesn't_ _look much like Big Boss, does it._

When Big Boss returns, it’s with a moderately long piece of cord. He sinks to His knees in front of V, and ties an overhand knot around the base of his cock and balls. He continues to wrap the cord around the length of his dick and the individual testicles, tenderly; the rope frames his erection snugly but doesn’t actually cut into the flesh at any point.

“…Boss,” he murmurs, when Big Boss is finished and pokes his bound cock, only the head and testicles visible and exposed now. It doesn’t chafe, but it feels restrictive.

“So hard, I’m kinda worried it’ll burst out,” He says, slapping the dick lightly, and V jolts, more fluid trickling from his slit and over the cord, wetting it. Big Boss chortles and grabs his swaying dick, suddenly wraps His lips around the exposed cockhead, and sucks on it.

It drives the heat into V’s face again, and he shudders pleasantly, attempts to push his hips forward, but he can’t do much in this position.

“Boss,” he says, pleads. Big Boss’s smooth tongue swirls over his glans, slides into his abused slit. “Boss - “

Big Boss hums, looks up at him through His lashes. “You taste so good. Part of me wants to suck you dry…”

 _Oh please_ , he thinks, unable to help himself, when Big Boss, mouth open, lasciviously licks over the swollen head, which is turning an even deeper shade of red.

“Maybe next time.”

V deflates with a whine as Big Boss stands. His breath catches in his throat when he watches the other man unbuckle His belt, assuming this is finally the point where his ass is going to get stuffed.

Not quite, as he finds out soon enough, when Big Boss pulls the belt loose, out of the loops.

“Brace yourself,” is the first and only warning he receives, and V, wide-eyed, stutters in a panic, “No, no, no wait - !”

A whip cracks, lashing against his already sore back brutally, and V _howls,_ almost swallows his own tongue.

One strike becomes two, becomes three, becomes four — the leather belt viciously crashing down in monotone staccato, topped off by V’s garbled screaming.

“How’s that,” Big Boss laughs, working on different parts of V’s body, but never breaking the rhythm - his ass and thighs receive a beating next, and the blows are so hard that V actually swings forward a few inches with every single one. He’s bleeding from numerous cuts soon enough.

“Does it _hurt?_ ”

It does. It hurts in a way that makes him think his skin is peeled off his muscles with sharp nails. His screams turn into sobs. When it finally stops, he’s lost count, catches sight of his own tears falling off his face in the mirror.

“Sorry, that was a silly question. Of course it hurts,” Big Boss says with a lilt, dragging His knuckles over V’s entire backside, pushing the pain deeper, smearing the blood. “That’s the point.”

“I can’t… I … I can’t … “ V’s spine curves under the burning touch, trying to get away from it. “Boss, I can’t do this - “

“You can,” Big Boss refutes, again. “You _must_. The world will make you suffer. If you can’t endure it for them, endure it for me, Jack.”

_What?_

Before V can process that, the belt comes down again - not for his back this time, but for his front, aiming for his bound, engorged cock, and even with the rope between the pain is so excruciating that he tries to curl in on himself, screaming himself hoarse, the hook overhead rattling with his convulsions.

And again.

And again.

He wants to die.

“Please —— !!” He somehow manages to choke out, before the next strike hits him, sweat and tears and blood streaming off him in currents. “Stop, please… please…”

Big Boss’s hand falls, and sliding between Venom and the mirror, He says, “You know what you need to say.”

He cups his wet cheek, looks deep into his glazed eye. V can’t stop the sobbing. He wasn’t trained for this. Nobody trained him for this. He’s not Big Boss. The other Big Boss brushes His lips over his in a ghostly kiss, and He whispers conspiratorially:

_Tell_

_Me_

_About_

_Your_

_Boss_

V pulls back and spits at His face. The clump of saliva hits His eye, and Big Boss staggers backwards, until He hits the mirror, the impact causing a small fissure in the surface.

He wipes the spit away with the back of His hand, staring at it with disbelief and indignation. V glares at Him, filled to the brim with contempt.

“Be that way,” Big Boss snaps, but rather than resuming the torture as V would expect, Big Boss whirls around to turn off the camera and lights again, storming out of Room 101.

And it starts anew.

 

***

 

Big Boss comes back, after letting V sulk in his own misery for a while; the insanity that comes with the prolonged silence drilling itself ever deeper into his head. His arms are completely numb when he hits the the squalid ground with a heavy thud. Big Boss wordlessly, violently lugs him across the room again, and V can tell that his patience has taken a considerable blow. He’s rolled onto his stomach, his arms twisted back so far that he they’re very nearly dislocated. They’re securely tied together with a thicker rope.

V groans, his cock chafing painfully, but the rest of him - the rest of him feels mostly numb, now. The blood and tears have both dried up.

“Dumb slut,” he hears Big Boss slur, heaving him onto the large and only table in the room, since V’s not in any condition to help, or move by himself.

He’s rearranged until his head hangs off the edge of the table, and his world is upside down. He stares vacantly at the recording camera right ahead, sticking to the ceiling from his current point of view.

 _Proof_ _…_

 _Proof of what_ _…_

_(he betrayed both himself and his own lover in the process)_

_(tell me about your boss)_

 

V blinks, slowly.

And the lights go out again, but not because they’re turned off. Something soft is thrown onto his face, a cloth, kept in place with one hand.

He knows what happens before it actually happens and he jolts alive, starts to thrash, tries to roll off the table - useless.

“You wanted to drown, didn’t you?” Big Boss jeers, and a relentless cascade of cold water hits his face, choking all air out of him, gasping and hiccuping and shaking his head, trying to escape the assault. He’s completely soaked within a minute, the water washing the blood off his body, shivering and convulsing violently throughout. His feet kick at the empty air, and he succumbs to the illusion of drowning without dying.

“I can do this the whole damn day, V,” Big Boss’s voice booms, clearly distinguishable even against the cacophony of V’s ongoing struggle for air.  “I can make you drown forever. I can make your dream come true, but you still won’t die in that dream. Wouldn’t that be something?”

It stops briefly when the first container is empty, but the damp cloth sticks to his mouth and nose, and the air is little and precious. V sucks in as much of it as he can before the second round; he even attempts to hold his breath, but the torrent seems to last forever. Overwhelmed by panic he breathes in the water rather than keeping it out, and gargles something incoherent, his strength and will fading.

It’s when most of his fight is drained from him that the cloth is removed from his face, and he rips his eyes open, immediately focusing on Big Boss’s visage and coughing up the water in his lungs.

“D- Done already,” Venom taunts, and Big Boss’s expression twists into a macabre grin.

“That’s more like it.”

Big Boss unceremoniously shoves him off the table like a sack of wet potatoes, and the sound he makes upon impact is similar. V lands on his right arm, and this time it _is_ dislocated, resulting in another unheard scream.

“You can stand, can’t you?” Big Boss’s boots give a moist squelch when He walks through he puddle and casually kicks Venom in the ribs, “So stand.”

V weighs the pros and cons of stubbornly remaining where he is, but that’ll just earn him broken ribs — but even when he starts to move it’s not fast enough to Big Boss’s liking, so he’s dragged up by his ponytail and pushed back against the table, which provides a minimum of support.

Something gleams in the light. V spots the serrated blade of the combat knife Big Boss is suddenly holding in His right hand. His left hand is dragging down the front zipper of His own jacket, and it turns out that He’s wearing nothing underneath.

“Remember this?” He asks.

And odd looking, outright grotesque scar winds along Big Boss’s chest, one V doesn’t sport himself. It’s in the shape of an S, giving the impression that He’s been cut open and stitched together again. V says nothing, but something in him… sinks.

“This is my memento,” Big Boss drawls, running two fingers along the sharp edges of the protruding jigsaw. “My reminder that something was torn out of me. To this day, it hurts with every breath I take.”

V can’t bear to look at him, feeling guilty for some inexplicable reason that he only grasps when Big Boss goes on, waving the knife around.

“I couldn’t do it alone. I had a medic help me with this.”

“Boss, you’re crazy…”

“That’s what he said. And after that, he said - ”

“But so am I.”

V chuckles under tears, the image clear as day, the memory crisp: Big Boss standing in front of him like this, with a knife and a wire, asking for his assistance in mutilating Himself, like it was a normal favor to ask of a friend. It was at the tail-end of their first Peace Day, the air still filled with the adoring, content murmurs of the few men they had, thanking Big Boss for one fleeting moment of peace.

“I remember. I couldn’t… understand you at all, but I… I remember wishing that I could, and then I, I drove the knife into you and I was so afraid of, of accidentally stabbing it into your heart,” he pauses, huffs. Sniffles. “You’re doing so well, you said. Don’t stop. Make it hurt. It needs to hurt… yeah, that shape. Press the wire into the wound, sew it to the skin so it grows into my flesh, takes root, becomes part of me. And you laughed, why are you crying, you’re not the one being almost gutted - “

He chokes down another sob. Boss’s fingers are at his chin, tipping it up, examining his stricken expression.

“Do you want to share this pain with me?”

“I do,” V replies passionately, without hesitation. “From the beginning… Please, let me in…”

Big Boss smiles, leans forward. He catches V’s lips with His own, tasting like salt, swiping his tongue over them until He’s invited into his mouth. In that exact moment the tip of a blade is driven into V’s stomach, and he moans, wantonly, harrowingly.

 

***

 

_“I’ve … done the best I could, the way you wanted it. I need to keep checking it every day to make sure there won’t be an infection — “_

_“Don’t sweat it. Christ, you’re a mess… maybe I should’ve asked someone else.”_

_“No! No, I’m just. Wasn’t prepared for that kind of request, you gotta admit it’s a little — “_

_“Strange, yeah.”_

_“For ‘emergency reasons’, you said…”_

_“Precisely.”_

_“…Boss.”_

_“What?”_

_“I know it’s not just that. Come on, you can talk to me. You know I won’t tell a soul.”_

_“…”_

_“…”_

_“…She had the same kind of scar. C-sec, and then her kid was taken away from her immediately after… told me it still hurt, after all these years. I… want to feel how she felt. Feel closer to her.”_

_“That’s why…? You’re still mourning? Boss, she died almost a decade ago…”_

_“Yeah, by my hand. I still haven’t forgiven myself for that. She could still be here, N——. Beat me up like she used to. It only ever hurt when she did it.”_

_“…Boss.”_

_“I still don’t get why she’d choose death over me.”_

_“Boss. If the memory of her is that painful… wouldn’t you rather try to forget it? Why remind yourself of it like this?”_

_“It’s not something you’d understand.”_

_“You loved her. Seems straightforward.”_

_“It was more than that. She’s my earliest human memory… I lived and died with her. Part of me… half of me belongs to the Boss. And that half died together with her on that day. But even though it’s gone, I still feel it. The empty space inside my heart. My identity as a human. Like an amputated limb - “_

_“…A kind of phantom pain.”_

_“She’ll never leave here.”_

_“…Must be nice.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“To be that deeply intertwined with another human being. I - I mean… you know they say ‘til death do us part’, but I’ve always found that kind of sad. If you take a vow like that, it should last beyond death.”_

_“Ha ha ha, so Dolphin’s and Rooster’s faux wedding left quite the impression on you. It’s nothing like that. This is hell, believe me. I’ve made peace with it, but you… you don’t want to find yourself in that kind of situation, with that kind of person. Anyway, I gotta get back -”_

_“Wait, let me just clean that up…”_

_“…”_

_“…”_

_“Eh, one more thing.”_

_“Boss?”_

_“Don’t tell anyone about this, alright? It’ll be our secret.”_

_“Sure thing. Miller’s gonna ask, though.”_

_“Well, like I said: it’s for emergency reasons.”_

_***_

 

The interval between Big Boss’s departure and return isn’t filled with silence this time, but a muted [tune](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1HpdleCgeg) that V hums to himself without pause. His eyes, dry and burning, remain open when the lights go out and back on again, and it seems like only the fraction of a second has passed when Big Boss’s boots click against the metal flooring again. He lays on his side, empty gaze fixated on no particular spot.

A calloused hand places itself on his stomach, trails along the contours of his abs and over the lines of the diamond-bladed jigsaw, gentle against the haphazard stitches keeping it in place. Down, and up again.

The shape of a V, red around the edges.

The hand doesn’t stop there. It ghosts over his cock, still trapped by the rope, teasing the head. It strokes over his flank, grazing the deep gashes the belt has left on his back. It lovingly caresses his abused ass and his thighs, an ugly mix of red and blue and black.

V lifts his bent leg when it slides into the cleft, turns his head, looks at Big Boss with a fond expression on his face, making eye contact with Him. The fingers withdraw - something pops open - and then they’re back again, cold and slick, sliding into him and stretching him open.

V doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t beg, doesn’t demand. Just waits, patiently, eyes trained on Big Boss’s face, the deep creases in it, the black pit of His eyepatch, like a hole in His head.

The fingers reach the most sensitive spot inside him, prodding it with care, and V gasps softly, opens himself up a little more, inviting him deeper into the empty, unfilled space.

“So warm,” Big Boss says, adding a third finger, and V meets Him halfway, his eyelids lowering a fraction when intense pleasure ripples up his spine, and the pain, the pain is fading out, into the background. Before long, it’s merely more than static.

He pulls out, zips down his pants, and V begins to quiver uncontrollably when he feels the hard girth press against his thigh, radiating warmth. Big Boss takes his knee, bends it more, pins it against His own shoulder.

“Ah… ah, ahh…” He pants out, when Big Boss’s massive cock finally breaches his asshole, pushing one agonizing inch after the other into him, until he’s all filled up. V’s head hits the table when he can’t maintain the strength in the muscles around his neck anymore.

He tears up again. Not because it hurts, this time.

“You’ve waited long enough. Look how much you endured for me…” Big Boss says, pulling out and pushing in again, fucking him slowly, but deep. A hand wraps around V’s throat, and his Boss leans down, hips snapping against V’s ass, making him mewl.

“How does it feel now, V? Tell me.”

“I — ah, I, mmmh,” V sputters, barely coherent. He’d needed this. Big Boss’s large cock buried deem inside him, filling him up, battering against his prostate.

“Talk,” Big Boss says.

“So good,” V breathes, his answer divided between thrusts. “So, so good. So full… hah, whole, I feel whole… I… I missed you so much, B- Boss… I… I wanted to die…”

“Do you want to die now?”

“No…”

“Does it hurt?”

“No - “

“Then,” Big Boss says, adjusting His angle and accelerating the pace a little, the table skidding across the floor each time, “Wasn’t it worth it?”

“Yes, yes Sir,” V croaks, a newfound wave of untainted pleasure shooting into his cock, unsure if he can even cum like that.

“Ah, Boss, my… Boss, please - “

“Oh, right,” Big Boss says, and halts. Pulls out that knife again, from the sheath at His back, and V’s not even bothered having it near his dick, the blade wedging itself between his shaft and the cord. If He cuts anything other than the rope, he doesn’t feel it - just the relief that comes with having his cock freed.

“You need to come?”

“I… yes but I — ahh!” He cries out, when Big Boss suddenly starts again, plowing horizontally into his ass, filling up every last inch, and V’s walls contract rhythmically around his girth.

“But I don’t — want this to stop, I wanna keep feeling you, don’t leave again — “

“Won’t stop until I’m done,” Big Boss says, grinning. “Gonna wreck your ass. So come, like a good bitch.”

“Yes,” V growls, determined, moving as best as he can to meet Big Boss’s thrusts, “Yes, yes -” And Big Boss laughs, grabbing his jaw. Gathers saliva in His mouth, then spits at his face first, then into his mouth.

“Whore,” He says, and V almost comes right then and there.

“You - are - so - hot,” V squeezes out, leading into another carnal, guttural growl. “Like thiiisss—— _aaaaaaahh!!!_ ”

Then he’s suddenly at the edge, pushed right over it. His orgasm strikes hard after the beating his prostate received, washing over him in numerous waves - V holds his breath, his cock erupting and splattering long streaks of white over the table and his own chest.

“Oh fuck, oohh fuck,” he curses, when Big Boss keeps pumping into him lazily, drawing it out, milking his prostate for what it’s worth.

“Not bad,” He comments, “But you can do better than that, slut.” He stops and drags His fingers through some of V’s semen, laps it up with His tongue. Just fucking eats it, and V - growls again, his desire too enormous to put into coherent words and sentences.

“Cut me loose,” he says, once he’s regained his breath.

“Oh?” Big Boss chides, arching a brow.

“Sir, please,” V adds quickly.

Big Boss reaches for the knife again, fulfilling his request and severing the rope restraining his arms. Then He takes the dangling leash, and pulls V off the table.

He finds himself in Big Boss’s lap not even a minute later, his partner sitting in the same seat he had spent at least a day in. Once Big Boss had situated Himself, yanking him closer, V hadn’t wasted much time, hopping on like a man possessed, with his back facing Big Boss so they could get a good view of the penetration and his inevitable cumshot.

With his prosthetic slung around Big Boss’s shoulder - the other arm still dislocated, so not much use he can get out of that  - he bounces eagerly on His lap, while Big Boss thrusts up, fucking his whole length into him at a rapid pace and occasionally tugging at the leash, hard enough that V almost tumbles off him. But he’s determined, and enjoying himself too much despite - or because of Big Boss’s little, trivial acts of villainy. Not like he hasn’t endured worse.

“You - feel so great,” V moans inbetween all the frantic thrusting, throwing his head back, gasping out loud with every jab at his prostate. “Ah, Boss… ah, ah, ah - do you feel - good - too - ”

Instead of an answer he gets Big Boss’s teeth at his neck and throat, sucking at and chewing on him, and of course, of course that’s so arousing that his cock gives a long thin spurt, and he has half a mind to ask Big Boss to take a chunk out of him, fucking eat him for real, and then ask Him how he tastes.

V laughs at his own grotesque fantasies, and when Big Boss emerges from his neck V kisses Him messily on the mouth; their teeth clash but Big Boss still reciprocates.

“So good,” He finally answers, after a significant delay. Snakes his other hand around to V’s front, running over the fake-scar and then up to a nipple, twisting it viciously, eliciting a whorish moan, and V glows. Again.

“You’re warm.”

“Boss I’m - I’m gonna cum again,” V warns, feeling himself getting closer, but Big Boss doesn’t slow down. “Your cock is making me cum -”

“Slut,” Big Boss whispers sweetly against his lips, and a pulse ripples through V’s dick. It’s followed by an exultant cry and another heavy load shooting from his slit in several bursts, all landing on the floor.

“Your slut,” he groans, drawn-out and feverishly, coming and coming and coming, and he wants Big Boss to keep calling him names, degrading him, denoting ownership.

“And such a good one.”

“Haaah…”

V slides off His cock when the thrusting stops, and off His lap, limbs feeling like jelly. When his knees hit the ground, V gets himself in position to welcome Big Boss’s cock into him again, ass up in the air, hole gaping and slick and _sore_ , but he doesn’t care. Nothing hurts right now.

“Keep fucking me, please… pump your cum into my ass and fill me up,” he murmurs, sex-addled and needy. Big Boss responds with a chuckle and a slap on his ass, “Only because you asked so nicely.”

“Thank you, Boss.”

And then Big Boss’s dick slides into him again, his hips smacking against V’s ass, hands steadying his partner’s waist. His pace is brutal and unforgiving right from the get-go this time, the way V likes it most, and it’s so blissful and intense he starts to drool and pant like a dog. His bionic hand scrapes along the ground looking for purchase, but there’s none to be found.

“Like that?” Big Boss says, slapping his ass repeatedly with every other thrust. “When I fuck you like a bitch in heat?”

V makes a strangled sound, vaguely reminiscent of a bark, before he manages: “Y- Yes Sir, I love it,” he breathes, and swallows. “Oh, oh god I’m gonna… gonna cum again…”

Big Boss bellows a laugh and scolds him with another sharp slap. “Honestly, V! You’re impossible - “

“Sorry, sorry I’ll — I’ll try, give it to me please,” he screws his eye shut, and his prosthetic darts for his own dick, bouncing with Big Boss’s relentless thrusts, wrapping his mechanical fingers firmly around it.

“Give it to me!!”

Big Boss’s jackhammers His cock into him, hard and fast and brutal, His nails clawing at V’s waist, leaving deep red marks. V cries out when he feels Big Boss’s hot semen finally spilling into him, reaching deep, filling him up until nothing more fits, and V lets go for a third time, answering his Boss’s canine growl with one of his own.

He feels content.

And complete.

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**O P E N     Y O U R     E Y E S     A L R E A D Y**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

They sit together, face to face. On the ground. Big Boss takes his hand, sets the dislocated arm, because V can’t do it himself. He doesn’t scream. Just bears with it.

“So what is,” Big Boss starts, “the worst thing in the world?”

“A reality in which Big Boss doesn’t exist,” V replies, sounding monotone. “Losing Big Boss. Being apart from Big Boss. That’s… what I fear the most.”

“Tell me about him.”

V hesitates. A lit cigar is handed to him, and he takes a long drag, calms his nerves.

“He is… my master. My raison d’être, my other half. I am his mental and physical copy. I was created to be his body double… a decoy, so he can be safe. My loyalty lies with him, now and forever. I will bear his burdens for him until he no longer has any use for me, and then I can die. No sooner.”

“Is he your lover?”

“It feels like it, but,” V swallows. “I don’t know. I think I loved him before I became this… thing.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

V smiles, wryly. His index finger prods at a small round scar on the inside of his thigh.

“…Yeah. He never looked at me as anything more than a soldier. He was too absorbed by his own pain.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” V says wistfully, though he can’t wrap his mind around the _why_.

“Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WowowowWOWOw I cant believe i got this far also ill shamelessly admit that this was my kinkdump chapter to stuff all the nasty bbv kinks I still wanted to write into  
> The next chapter is not the last one but its the beginning of the end and brutal :')


	13. Vitium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I have tried to find a way_   
>  _To take your pain, to make you stay_   
>  _Take my fear and have your way tonight_
> 
> _This empty mirror_  
>  _The image cold and clear_  
>  _I will never stray_  
>  _With you I will always stay_  
>  _In this bond_  
>  _My peace may never come_  
>  _As we walk into oblivion_
> 
> _The sun breaks through_  
>  _I see the beast inside of you_
> 
> ~ [The Beast (Inside Of You)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JdO4CgfHZ-0) \- Lena Katina

 

_Mother Base, Seychelles Waters, 1988_

The preparations for Peace Day had been underway for a while, with Kaz spearheading most of the efforts. Since every soldier on base originally comes from a different cultural background, it’s the only holiday Diamond Dogs gets to celebrate collectively; one they’ve chosen for themselves as a separate group. It’s also a reminder of their shared past and fallen comrades, to honor a tradition Big Boss had first established while commanding Militaires Sans Frontieres. No one’s ever openly addressed the hypocrisy in mercenaries celebrating peace for a single day, while profiting off warfare the remaining 364 days of the year.

But perhaps that’s because the sentiment behind the festivities doesn’t concern global peace and prosperity, but rather the peace they’ve found for themselves in their own little microcosm, out on the ocean. International Peace Day is on September 21st, but theirs is on a different date every year - fickle and inconsistent, like peace itself.

In 1988, it’s on September 2nd. He knows this date holds some significance outside of this, given how quickly he’d told it to Kaz when asked about Peace Day, but he can’t remember what it was. Something important.

The charcoal sky is set alight by the first volley of colorful fireworks, and Venom’s good hand is flat against his own solid stomach, feeling the ripples of the wire beneath the skintight fabric of his shirt. It hurts when he inhales, but it hurts more when he exerts pressure, increasing gradually; pushing the razors deeper into his flesh to cut himself open. Soon enough he feels the thin trickle of something wet, catching in his iliac furrow.

He removes his hand at the sound of DD’s soft whine, elicited by another noisy burst of fireworks being shot into the sky, signifying the start of a long and probably pretty rowdy night of peace - a paradox in itself. There are definitely gunshots mixed into the pyrotechnics, whether the men are just trying to make more of a racket or are already hosting their target and speed shooting contests, which are always a hazard if alcohol is involved. Sometimes even when there isn’t.

Leaving the window, Venom kneels at the side of his bed, under which DD is cowering, ears flat and trembling. Their recent mission has left other, more physical traces as well: save for a few patches, most of his right face and flank is devoid of fur, covered in swollen, blistered second degree burns that are only slowly healing, and painful to the touch. Only half of his tail’s original length remains, bandaged and tucked between his hind legs.

He’s been told by Butterfly that he must have been too close to an explosion, which had left him vulnerable and made him an easy target for other attackers, which explains the burns and a stab wound in his abdomen which, thankfully, didn’t damage any vital organs, but cost him a lot of blood. When Venom asked about the tail, Butterfly had been rather queasy, and reluctant to answer.

DD had chewed off his own tail while Venom had undergone treatment himself, she’d said, and then eaten it. She’d looked like she was about to throw up recounting the morning where she’d found him sitting in a puddle of urine, gnawing the flesh off some bones, not immediately noticing the bloody stump at his rear. After sitting down for a bit, she’d explained to him the psychological effects traumatic events can have on animals, same as with humans. Sometimes it will result in self-mutilation, prompted by stress.

 _He_ _’ll be fine_ , _though_ , Venom had tried to reassure himself more than her. _We always get back up._

Venom gently pets his companion’s dry snout, careful not to accidentally touch any of his burns. He’s rarely left this room since Butterfly had given the OK to release him back onto Mother Base, though it goes without saying that he won’t be accompanying Venom on any missions for a long while, and that Ocelot might have to go through his entire training routine with him again. Reprogram him from the ground up.

Still better than being dead.

“Sorry boy… I can’t stay here with you the whole night. I got things to do,” Venom says, firmly. The wire winding through his torso won’t let him forget that - the pain he shares with Big Boss even when he’s not there - the pain of being alive. Two lifetimes of tragedy and heartbreak, resting on his shoulders together with the responsibility that comes with being Big Boss. He’s never felt closer to him than he does right now. Venom’s not sure if this is peace, but it’s good enough. He can see a little clearer at last, the pain he’s welcomed into himself serving as a lens to focus on what’s important.

 _And life goes on. There_ _’s always a reason to keep on living._

Time to go back to his men. His knuckle strokes along DD’s nose one last time, up to his forehead, and then Venom gets up, switching off the ceiling light on his way out. DD’s left behind in the dark, quiet room, only occasionally illuminated by the fireworks outside, and he flinches with every shot.

After a while, he shoves one of his paws between his jaws.

 

***

 

_Venom remembers waking to the sight and smell of white flowers, being put into a vase on his bedside table. His bleary eyes latched onto the contrasting red leather next, and he knew who it was before he spoke._

_“Did I wake you up?” Ocelot asked softly, when Venom stirred lightly, unable to move very much because of his sore back. His sore front. Everything was sore, even his bloodshot eyes, and his head felt like someone was trying to hammer the shrapnel straight through his brain._

_“You’re a light sleeper.”_

_“How long was I — ?” He groaned, throat still raw, and Ocelot pulled over a chair to sit down. Venom recognized the room — a private one in medical. He was hooked up to an ECG monitoring his heart rate, as well as an IV drip._

_“Don’t know how long you’ve slept, but you’ve been here for three days.”_

That’s wrong, _Venom_ _’s mind immediately objected, fragmented scenes of Big Boss extensively torturing him flashing before his eyes. Big Boss gutting him open and stitching him shut. Big Boss drilling his fat cock into him, so hard and deep that Venom’s asshole still felt stretched and wet. Big Boss sitting with him, Big Boss talking about Big Boss —_

_“Hrmn,” Venom grunted, pushing himself up just enough so he could sit. “About the mission — “_

_Ocelot shook his head, worry etched into his features._ _“Let’s not talk about that right now. It’s not important — what’s important is that you fully recover. Do you… know, what you tried to do?”_

 _Venom hesitated at first, awkwardly massaged the stump of his left arm, lacking the prosthetic._ _“Yeah.”_

_“I’ve been told that the memories associated with that place triggered certain emotions in you,” Ocelot said. “That the guilt over what happened all those years ago was so crushing that you wanted to join your comrades. That’s why things turned out the way they did.”_

_“Hm.”_

_“Do you still feel that way?”_

_How he felt didn_ _’t matter. His life wasn’t his own to begin with, and Venom knew now that Big Boss wanted him alive and hurting. He’d be relieved of it in due time, but that wasn’t his choice to make. He didn’t even consider mentioning Big Boss to Ocelot, because there was nothing to confirm anymore. The tension was gone, too._

_“No.”_

_“ …I should’ve known better.” Ocelot folded his hands in his lap, and his regretful tone puzzled Venom. “Someone else should have handled that mission. We almost lost you because of my lack of foresight.”_

_“What’s done is done,” Venom dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Don’t blame yourself. Actually, I think both that mission and my time-out helped me put some things into perspective.”_

_“Yeah? The counseling helped?”_

_“Sure did. Give me another day or two and I’ll be back up to speed. As for what to tell the men - “_

_“I’ve already told them that fatigue finally caught up with you and that your injuries are minor. They worry too, you know, but they aren’t gonna bother you as long as you’re on bed rest. Either way, I’m honestly glad to hear that you — ”_

_There was a knock on the door._

 

***

 

No one can claim that they skimp on anything when it comes to Peace Day — while the monthly birthday parties and other more casual festivities organized by staff are kept within reason and fairly lowkey, Peace Day offers the whole blaring gamut of games, shows and other activities. For 24 hours, the command platform is the central, buzzing hub of entertainment, with a number of loudspeakers and a public stage occupying the helipad; offering musicians, comedians and other artistically inclined personnel an opportunity to show off their talents while the audience enjoys an indefinite supply of booze and snacks from the mess hall. Searchlights have been repurposed as disco lights, with recent hits such as _Don_ _’t Worry Be Happy_ and _I Hate Myself For Loving You_ being played between show acts, providing a fitting musical accompaniment to the crowd’s drunken bawling and chattering. Not like the noise could possibly bother any neighbors out here.

Most contests are relegated to the other platforms for safety reasons, and of course medical remains open throughout the night as well, with a few unfortunate souls that lost a round of rock-scissors-paper having to cover shifts and refrain from drinking.

Venom’s still positive that he didn’t drink very much last time, though he’s not so responsible this time - emptying a few cans of beer while he hangs with his men, just enough for a mild dizziness to set in - just enough to let them know that he, too, lets loose once in a while.

“Holy shit I think my ears are _bleeding_ ,” the man next to him slurs, chucking his empty can of beer towards the stage, where currently a trio of Middle Eastern guys from base development are performing traditional Arab music. He proceeds to shout them down, drawing the attention of someone who doesn’t quite share his opinion - and Venom promptly has to break up a fight, though he’s not very enthused about it. He’s lost count how often he had to separate people already, and those are only a small fraction of the people who probably started shit tonight, unlucky enough to be in his direct line of sight.

“Hey, play nice,” he gruffs, getting between them. “You learn to respect other people’s cultures, and you… other people’s opinions,” Venom scolds them lamely, and sends them to opposite sides of the strut so they won’t run into each other again, at least for a while. He goes to make the rounds, keeping to the command platform, simply assuming that Kaz and Ocelot will keep an eye on the others. He’d given them a heads-up about the cocaine circulating as well, which might turn into a bigger problem if they didn’t identify the source of it soon — since the men obviously weren’t acknowledging the ban they’d issued.

From an elevated position on the upper deck, he scans the crowd below for any more troublemakers, then descends the stairs.

Venom’s making his way towards the booze stock when someone suddenly grabs his wrist, and he whirls around automatically.

“We need to talk,” his own voice hisses, and unlike last time, Venom gives the appropriate reply: “Yes.” He feels himself breaking out in cold sweat: _Did I fuck up again?_

“Heeey, Boss!!” Someone yells over Bon Jovi’s _Bad Medicine_ , and both men turn. The steel grip at his wrist disappears, and Venom notes how Big Boss takes a small step back as they are being approached. Casually.

“So glad to see you’ve recovered. You got anything planned?” Dragonfly asks him, who Venom hasn’t seen since that mission at Camp Omega. He looks briefly at Big Boss, then focuses on Venom. “We were hosting some rounds of poker on the lower deck… you up for it?”

Venom’s not sure what to say, looks to Big Boss for help. Rather than saying anything, he opts to retreat, as if he had simply bumped into him.

Venom supposes this means that he has no reason to refuse the offer.

 

***

 

It’s a good thing the men don’t actually remember how good Big Boss used to be at poker, because Venom’s the first one to go all-in and lose everything, sitting out the rest of the round. He takes his chair and sits in the corner right by the railing, lighting himself a Cohiba to the beat of Bowie’s _Diamond Dogs_ , which has the men breaking out in loud and ecstatic cheering.

Dragonfly joins him after a couple minutes, while four other men continue playing for a pot that currently consists of five cans of beer, two bananas, a pack of cigarettes, two ammo mags, the September issue of the _Playboy_ , and a condom.

“Never claimed to be any good at poker,” the pilot says facetiously, and Venom relaxes into his seat, showing him a small but genuine smile. He’s enjoying his time with them, but he keeps thinking about what Big Boss might have wanted from him before - he doesn’t approach him unless it’s important, so he’s having a guilty conscience regardless. It doesn’t take long for his mind to wander, to fantasize about the pain and the sex he might have received had he gone with Big Boss instead.

Dragonfly snaps his attention back to the present, as he seems hellbent on making conversation, even as Venom keeps his silence.

“Really too bad what happened to DD,” he says, quieter. Venom grunts his reply, and he goes on: “That entire mission was a mess.”

Venom doesn’t hide how uncomfortable he is about that being brought up again.

“So was the medic when I picked you three up. Not a scratch on him otherwise though.”

“Look, what brought this up,” Venom interrupts, irritated. The other man continues, stubbornly. “He was mumbling the whole flight through about how ‘he should’ve never agreed to it’ and that ‘he can’t do it anymore’ … he was treating you after we got back to base too, wasn’t he? And you were talking to him earlier — “

“He’s my _doctor_ ,” Venom snaps.

“And some others have told me that they’ve seen him around you since months now, since you started… withdrawing into yourself.”

“What are you trying to _imply?_ ”

There’s a pause, filled by jeering laughter coming from someone at the table. Venom stares at Dragonfly, hopes he’ll shut up. But he won’t.

“I know I’m not the only one who’s tried talking to you. We think that our security has been compromised, that someone is — “

Venom barks a laugh, interrupting, “That’s ridiculous.”

“ — someone is manipulating you. But we can’t even approach Commanders Ocelot and Miller with our concerns if we don’t have any conclusive evidence. Not if you yourself are covering for…”

Something inside him shuts down, his vision tunneling.

Venom’s steel hand darts for his collar, grabs a fistful of it, and hurls him into the poker table which immediately collapses under the weight and his brunt force. The others, alarmed, back away from him when Venom stands and menacingly approaches Dragonfly, who cannot get away in time to dodge the boot coming for his throat, pinning him to the ground.

“There is no security breach,” Venom grates, crushing his windpipe. Someone runs past him, up the stairs, doubletiming the steps. “If there is, you’ll hear about it. I really don’t advise jumping to conclusions based on hearsay and paranoia.” Dragonfly makes gargling noises in the back of his throat, fingers desperately clawing at Venom’s ankle.

“That goes for everyone here. Did I make myself clear?” Venom looks into the round, dares them to challenge his authority. No one does. He still doesn’t remove his weight from Dragonfly’s throat, who’s slowly but surely losing consciousness.

Someone’s hand is suddenly at his shoulder. Venom reflexively elbows Ocelot right in the face, growling, “Don’t touch me,” and then he slams him into the nearest wall, driving his fist into his face multiple times until his nose is a bloody mess, and his knuckles sore. Ocelot doesn’t struggle, doesn’t tell him to quit it, doesn’t ask what’s gotten into him even when Venom finally stops, aware of the silence and horrified expressions. Even the music has stopped.

His head hurts. He wants to go to sleep.

“ …You’re drunk,” Ocelot offers helpfully, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the ground.

“Go sleep it off.”

He goes, and that’s how Peace Day ends.

 

***

 

_Africa, 1988_

 

No one mentions it again, and he forgets about it. Venom carries out his day-to-day routine, going on missions again more frequently. Today, he’s doing a simple intel op; the mission site a small outpost in Africa. After acquiring the documents and scanning them, the iDroid announces an imminent thunderstorm, and Venom decides to take a little rest in one of the huts he’d cleared out, waiting for it to pass.

Everything’s just the way it should be. He touches the fake-scar through his uniform to remind himself of it. Diamond Dogs is alive and functioning, and so is he. All for Big Boss’s sake. That’s all that matters. It’s kinda like peace.

He’s resting his eyes for a bit when he receives a call from Mother Base. It’s Ocelot.

“Boss, we have a situation,” he says. Venom can hear Kaz yelling in the background — ‘that’s an understatement!’

“What is it,” Venom asks, idly browsing through the menus in his iDroid. Base isn’t on lockdown, so it can’t be that serious.

“…We had a power outage not long ago. Looks like sabotage… fortunately we weren’t hit by an enemy attack, but I checked our communication logs immediately after. There were a bunch of unauthorized, encoded transmissions trying to establish contact with our competitors, and then there were…”

Venom felt his spine stiffen. “What?”

“There were really odd ones. Usually just consisting of one line reading, ‘WHERE ARE YOU ISHMAEL’, or ‘DONT LEAVE ME ISHMAEL’ … ”

“ … “

“I’m guessing you know what this likely means.”

“Yeah.”

“In any case, some of our men have taken it upon themselves to weed out the spy before I could get to it. We need you here. Pequod should be there to pick you up in less than five minutes.”

“What happened?”

“They locked themselves up in Room 101.”

 

***

 

 

 _Mother Base, Seychelles Waters, 1988_

_Room 101_

 

 

BANG. BANG. BANG.

“Open the goddamn door, or I swear — !”

Venom keeps banging against the heavy duty steel door, Ocelot at his side in the hallway, with his arms crossed. Although this is primarily his territory, there hadn’t been much of a reason to use this room recently — making it not immediately obvious when keys went missing. Doesn’t help that they’re using the other locks which are only accessible from the inside.

“A stern reprimand won’t be enough this time,” Ocelot muses, while Venom slams his shoulder into the door, loudly swearing and threatening to toss them into the ocean if they didn’t open the door right the fuck _now_. “But discharging them is risky as well…”

Venom huffs, wipes the sweat from his brow and scowls at the door. “I’m gonna get some explosives and blow it right out of the - “

He stops himself when something metallic clicks and moves. He’s already expecting the worst when the door swings open - maybe Big Boss has already beaten them into bloody pulps -, but somehow it turns out to be worse than anything he could have imagined.

He steps into the windowless room, and the first thing he he’s hit with is the disgusting stench of blood and burnt skin. He quickly counts his own men - six in total, and he immediately recognizes three of them: Dragonfly, Butterfly, and Mayfly, buzzing around the chair with a seventh person sitting in it before they stop and freeze.

No one says a word. Ocelot enters after him, and Venom stoically examines the interrogation room, takes in the most important details: the tape recorder on the table as well as the generator with the hand crank and two rods attached to it by cables.

“It was an accident,” someone says meekly, recoiling instinctively when Venom advances, going straight for the chair in the center of the room. The others step aside, letting him pass through.

The bound, slumped figure in the chair wears a black plastic bag over his head. It’s not inflating or deflating. The rest of him doesn’t move either. Long, fresh streaks of blood run over his throat and bruised, bare chest; over the S-shaped fake scar. His own seems to throb painfully in response to the sight, and both of Venom’s hands curl into tight fists at his sides, his entire posture tense. It’s so quiet he can hear the blood dripping into a puddle at his feet.

_They —_

“Go,” Ocelot says hastily, somewhere behind him.

_THEY KILLED HIM —_

“ ** _GO!_** ”

A door is slammed shut, and someone screams -

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

\- her neck gives a satisfying crack when he catches it in the crook of his elbow, and he twists, twists and _twists_ past any resistance, slams her into the -

 

_You too have known loss,_

 

\- blood splatters onto his own face when he rams his knife into his throat, drags it down and carves his ribcage open until he can tear his still beating heart right out of his chest -

 

_and that loss torments you still._

 

\- gouges the eye out with his blade, then jabs one of the rods directly into the empty socket, frying his brain, then -

 

_You hope hatred might someday replace the pain,_

 

\- he severs the tongue and stuffs it right back down his throat, making him swallow it before he steps on his balls, pushing pushing pushing until they give with a _pop_ -

 

_but it never goes away._

 

\- breaking every single bone in his body, starting with the legs, ripping out the bone when it pierces through the flesh -

 

_It makes a man hideous,_

 

\- bashes his skull in with the bone until it splinters, and drives the sharp pointy tip right into the ruin of his forehead, through the crack -

 

_inside and out._

\- he falls to his knees, air rushing out of his lungs. Rests his head on Big Boss’s thighs for a moment, both men soaked with blood. Mangled corpses and their severed parts are scattered across the room, but Venom pays it no mind.

He’s gotten his revenge if nothing else. His throat feels tight.

He finally starts to cry. Reaches his hand up to Big Boss’s face to tug off the plastic bag and he freezes, eyes widening in horror.

“Wouldn't you agree? We both are demons. Our humanity won't return."

Skull Face’s ugly visage is staring back at him, a wicked smile accompanying his drawled words. Then there's a sudden weight on his shoulders, someone latching onto him to keep him where he is, and Ocelot hisses into his ear, “Two plus two equals… ?”

“Four,” Venom says out of instinct, feeling drained, tired, ready to die all over again. A needle pierces the skin at his neck, and within seconds, his eyelids start to feel so heavy that he can’t manage to stay awake, going limp in Ocelot’s arms.

And he dreams.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**YOUR EYES ARE OPEN.**

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RUH OH  
> i want to apologize in advance to whoever i might piss off with the resolution in the next chapter hahahaa


	14. Veritas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _It's the dark of night and I'm at the end of the line_   
>  _Alone in my head and waiting for something divine_   
>  _To answer me_
> 
> _Drowning to silence the internal violence, I pray_  
>  _To make it through_
> 
> _The stormwinds are growing as my dreams are blowing away_  
>  _Just like you_
> 
> _I feel just like you_
> 
> [Just Like You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHTJra7dhNQ) \- Celldweller

_???????????????????????_

 

 

Slowly, you manage to blink your eyes open.

As the light filters through your lashes, you try to make out your surroundings. But the shapes are all blurred; all you know, right now, is that you’re on your back. It feels like you have awaken from a very long sleep, your body numb and unresponsive.

Where are you?

Who are you?

With these questions drifting through your resurfacing mind, you notice something else - trickling into the cracks of your disjointed thoughts, and providing context. Music, coming from your bedside table, the volume so low that you need to listen consciously. You turn your head, spot a radio.

You’ve heard that song before. You know who sang it, first, but what you’re hearing is not the original version.

You’re the copy of a great man, you remember now. Made to protect his legacy, keep his legend alive, spread his words. To walk in his shadow as his most trusted lieutenant, ready to give your life for him at every turn your story, so he can remain in the light. The life he breathed into you, once.

V. 

The letter drills itself painfully into your head, like the shrapnel in your frontal lobe.

Do you know what it stands for?

You make a noise, at the back of your throat. You try to form words, but none come over your lips - it’s been taken from you, your voice.

But the voice you lack, others around you retain. As you lay there in your casket, bound by the prison of your mangled body, you can hear a conversation, far-away and dull, on the other side of a door. You stare at the whirring ceiling fan, unable to not listen, image morphing into the rotor blades of a helicopter.

Your bed feels as hard as an operating table.

“ — warned you about doing anything to that effect. I had things under control. All you had to do was wait until the right time, but you and your — “

“He deserved to know.”

“ _Moral obligations._ Do you have any idea how long it will take to undo this damage? You think I just have to snap my fingers and _tada_ — perfectly under hypnosis again like none of this ever happened? _That_ _’s not how it works._ Something so intricate takes weeks, if not months, at the very least — even if I manage to sweep recent events under the rug. And who’s going to lead this outfit in the meantime? You? I’m sure Miller’s gonna enjoy that.”

“I could — “

“That wasn’t a serious question. Keeping all of this running in its current state is more effort than it’s worth, at this point. We’ll just move ahead with your plan. I’m still going to need a while to fabricate a convincing cover story to dispose of — “

“No, stop it right there. Before you do anything, let me talk to him. I might be able to fix this myself.”

“Oh, I’ve heard _that one_ before, and wouldn’t you _know_ — “

The next time you blink, a man appears in your field of vision — or maybe he’s always been there. It’s not a doctor; he’s wearing a hat, and a duster. He leans over you, inspects you curiously, blocking the light. Instinctively, you try to focus on his face, but he doesn’t have one. Just a skull, covered in scorched skin and scar tissue.

“Ahh. How long has it been, my friend? Hours, or years? Can you recall?” He asks you with his mutilated lips twisted into a macabre smile; the sight hurts in your eyes and the voice hurts in your ears. Your stomach churns, your entire being bristles, filled with fury. You whine and then hiss, an animal with one foot stuck in a bear trap, still unable to speak.

“Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur,” he says solemnly, like a prayer for you; he takes off his hat, holds it to his chest. “Wise is the man who talks little. I am truly sorry for your loss. You have my condolences.”

You long for your arms, want to strangle him with your hands. They are both there, one made of flesh and the other of crimson steel, but secured by nylon straps — same as your ankles. Even if you had the strength, you couldn’t move them worth an inch.

So you have to listen.

“Are you still waiting for your master to return? To give back what he took from you? He will _never_ do that. He abandoned you a long time ago, just like your comrades. And yet you keep on clinging to that delusional, melancholic hope that there is sense to this suffering, that all you have to do is to fulfill your duty to him, _and_ your brothers. That hope is what guides you through this nightmare. I can hardly blame you. I am the same way.”

You and he are nothing alike, you’re convinced. He is a monster. A rapist. A murderer.

“It’s the only thing keeping us alive, that pain. Even when - at times - the pain of this burden becomes too much for our fragile selves, and we burst at the seams — shedding our humanity like a snake does its skin. But what was it your master always said? …Ah. ‘Nothing to be ashamed of. Pain gets the better of us all’. We can’t be expected to always be at our best, now can we? Not when we’re looking for something, _anything_ , to fill the blanks that have been left behind.”

You toss and shake your head, try to gather enough saliva to spit it at him, but your mouth is dry. Your fists pull at your restraints and you snarl viciously when his gloved hand hovers over your bared stomach, ghosting over a nostalgic scar in the shape of your true name.

“Poor thing,” Skull Face says, pitying you.

“He should just let you die already, and put you out of your misery. But he’s too much of a coward to do it with his own hands, much like you.”

He withdraws his bony fingers with the sound of a door opening, followed by footsteps. Harsh light floods the room for a moment, and the shadow of a man walks towards you. He smells like leather. Skull Face wordlessly retreats to the other side of your bed. The music of the radio fades into background static, replaced by the mechanical, steady rhythm of your monitored heartbeat.

Beep

Beep

Beep

You sigh and still, uncoil. Relief washes over you when your master steps into the halogen light, because he looks healthy and wholesome, alive - overwriting and eradicating the last memory you have of him; a lifeless, faceless corpse, and you gently touched your bloodied hands to his head. This time he touches his to yours, when he brings his face close to yours and his index finger pulls up your eyelid, staring into you. Looking for something. For you.

“Are you awake,” he asks you, the words wrapping around you like dark velvet, and you can feel his warm smoky breath on your lips, “Ahab?”

There it is, your voice. He exhales, and you inhale.

You see the ocean reflected in his eye; and he, the sky in yours.

“Ishmael,” you stammer, unsure, like a child speaking its first word. You shouldn’t call him that right now, though - that’s the name of the narrator. “Boss,” you correct yourself soon after.

Good boy. You open your mouth again, a flood of words rushing out of you: “I… Boss, I, I saw you die, I’m glad, I’m, I — “

You fall silent once more with the index finger on your lips. He lets a few beats pass, before he lifts it and uncurls another finger.

V.

“How many fingers?”

“Two.”

“How many people?”

Your pupil flits over to Skull Face, watching you with impartial curiosity, and you hesitate a second too long. It’s enough of an answer for your master, whose palm cups your bristled cheek when he heaves an unsteady sigh; a sound that is utterly distressing to you. You lean into the touch regardless, find that the fingertips near your fractured temple are warm.

“What do you think happened?” Your master asks you instead, relieving you of having to give an answer to the other question. His gaze never wavers, lone blue eye fixed on yours and you wouldn’t mind drowning in it; your pulse and breath slowing.

“Start from the beginning.”

“And try not to lie this time… if you’re even _capable_ of speaking the truth,” Skull Face’s reproachful voice from the other side, but you ignore him this time, just like the man you are now face to face with - as if he doesn’t exist.

The beginning. Where was it? Your bond with this man was forged at a time you cannot remember anymore; in a past that’s been ripped away from you, burned to ashes and scattered to the sea. All that’s been left is the present, and an uncertain future.

Your sorrows rekindled when the memory of him returned.

“You… the tape, I…” You swallow. He waits, patiently, thumb stroking back and forth below your eye.

“You were watching me. Always there, just playing with me… I couldn’t think about anything else… I started to think you’d forgotten me… I wanted to see you again, feel your touch, and one day you came. To remind me of my role. To punish me for not playing my part correctly. And I, I screwed up. I failed you, Boss, it was all my fault — they thought you were a spy and took you away again but I killed them Boss I killed them all with my _own two hands_ I — “

The pad of his thumb against your lips. Skull Face’s disparaging, melodically drawn out hum bridges the silence between your heartbeats.

The distance between you and your master grows again when straightens himself, brow furrowed. His soothing hand leaves your face and settles at the walkman clipped to his belt instead, removing a cassette tape.

_smaerD teewS_

You blink. He flips it.

_Flaming Whale_ , this side reads, and he inserts the tape into the cassette deck of the radio next to your bed, before he presses _Rewind_.

Something about this feels very wrong. The _click_ when your master presses the _Play_ button stings in your ears, and your hands, for some reason, uselessly try to escape your bindings to cover them.

He pulls a chair close, sits down as the recording begins to play, watching you - as he ever does - with an unreadable expression.

 

 

“ — recording now?”  
  
“Y-yeah, it is, just — “  
  
(Sounds of something hard hitting something soft, fleshy; a person coughs, wetly.)  
  
“Get it over with already, if nothing comes out of this we are so fucked I swear — “  
  
(Footsteps. It’s more than one pair.)  
  
“Alright, Whale. We’re all quite tired, so if you’d all just do us a favor and tell us already who sent you… might be the better deal for you, too. I mean, you know how the Boss is, might just kick your sorry ass onto a lifeboat and — “  
  
(The victim starts to laugh hoarsely, uncontrollably.)  
  
“ …haaah…hahaha, yeah, yeah… I know how he is alright…oh my _god_ , you have no idea. You wanna know who I work for, huh? You wouldn’t fucking believe me even if I told you. You can… do whatever you want to me, it’s not you I’m scared of…”  
  
(Someone is being hit, and someone else hisses a warning.)  
  
“What the _fuck_ are you talking about? My patience is wearing really thin, here.”  
  
“He’s lost it.”  
  
“Just admit it already and this will be — “  
  
“Oh yeah, thanks for nothing, by the way. You tell them how I fucked _you?_ Sure, that makes me the bad guy — “  
  
(Some gargled screaming and then wheezing that lasts for a minute. The sound of dripping.)  
  
“Your ring finger’s next on the list.”  
  
“You used your position as a doctor to manipulate him. You raped him, drove him to suicide. Tried to sabotage us. I’d slice your fucking traitor ass open right here if I didn’t know that it goes against the Boss’s ideals — so talk already. Because if I can promise you one thing, it’s that he won’t be coming to rescue you and deny that he’s ever been fucked with.”  
  
“…haha… Hah…”  
  
(Another crunch.)  
  
“Is this fucking funny to you?”  
  
(Another. One more. A howl.)  
  
“ _Talk!_ ”  
  
(Silence. Heaving.)  
  
“… m-maybe I’ve… I’ve really lost it… ‘m dead one way… or another… might as well get it off my chest… you really want to- know? …Alright… here’s what - here’s what happened…”

 

 

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.           Beep.           Beep.

Your pulse quickens, and your hands desperately try to wriggle out of their bindings.

“Ever the victim,” Skull Face comments, clicking his tongue.

You wanna pay attention now. This part’s important.

 

 

“The Boss, he’s… he’s a fucking nutcase, I swear, he has some serious issues… PTSD isn’t the worst of it… manic depression, paranoia, SMD, MPD, IED… but I… I didn’t see it back then — maybe I didn’t want to — when he came to me, a few months back. It was the morning after — our shift together, thought he would punch me in the dick, make me scrub the toilets for a year but instead he said — he said — “

 

 

_“Let’s play a game.”_

_You look at your boss with obvious unease, because you know that he can get creative with his disciplinary measures sometimes, and surely he hasn_ _’t dragged you away from your comrades without a reason — he doesn’t like making a big display of corporal punishment, and his men love him for his mellow nature._

_Never in a thousand years would you have expected anything like this, though. His flat hand (marked by a bite?) presses against your collar bone, right at the base of your throat, until your back meets the wall, and you feel sweat running down the back of your neck._

_“I mean, I could castrate you publicly for your misconduct, but I think what I’m gonna suggest instead will appeal to you and your dick a lot more. That’s right, I’m free to rip your fucking dick off and nobody would do anything to stop me. I could also fuck your ass so raw that you’ll shit blood for days. That’s alluring, isn’t it, to have that kind of power? To be Big Boss?”_

_You say nothing, holding your breath, knees shaking with terror - or is it excitement?_

_“I’ll let you have it. Anybody can be Big Boss. All you need is someone who believes that you are.”_

_You open your mouth, and he covers it with his hand. Not yet._

_“You’re going to be Big Boss, and I’m going to be your dumb, pathetic slut. You’re going to fuck me - me, and nobody else. You’re going to beat me. You’re going to make me feel it. You’re going to own and discipline and take care of me. You won’t breathe a word of this to anyone. It’ll be our little secret.“_

_Then his palm slides from your face, and you exhale, staring at him, looking at him with different eyes._

_A game._

_“What do you say?”_

_“Boss, you’re crazy…”_

“… but so am I. I mean, haha, who wouldn’t… take him up on that kind of offer? Just pretending to be Big Boss while fucking the actual one… And I was fucking terrified he’d rip my dick off for real if I didn’t comply. It was harmless enough in the beginning — “  
  
“That’s the most insane bullshit I’ve ever heard, are you high?!”

 

 

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“That never happened,” you gasp. That tape is a lie, a hallucination; it simply has to be. But if this is the dream doesn’t it mean that your master actually died, hmm?

Make up your mind.

“I don’t remember this.”

Oh, but you do.

You look at your master for help and assurance, but he just sits there, stoically, as the tape continues to run, your loyal men accusing your victim of lying. It’s Skull Face who speaks, offering words of wisdom to you by quoting your dear friend: “Of course you don’t, you hypocrite. You forget the parts you don’t like about yourself.”

NO, you want to scream, but I won’t let you, THAT’S NOT WHAT HAPPENED. I HAVE NO RECOLLECTION OF THIS.

“Just because it wasn’t written out doesn’t mean it didn’t happen… you see… all stories are ripe with narrative blanks. So is our memory. It is all a matter of interpretation and reading between the lines to create context. It’s our personal thoughts and experiences that shape our perception of the world around us, and you — you like to see yourself in the role of the victim, the poor fellow who was tortured and abandoned by Big Boss, but you haven’t been a victim for a very long time now. You’re a perpetrator.”

I know how badly you want to escape, to pass out, to forget. To die. It’s not going to happen. None of what you wish for is going to happen.

 

 

“…we had… a lot of rough fucks, and he would… often tell me what he wanted me to do, his… demands became more and more… disturbing, haaaha, I fisted his ass and pissed in his mouth and he - loved it… yeah, it felt really fucking great to have him on his knees, but I always… tried to take care of him, because he’s still my boss… still the man I look up to…”  
  
“He’s just mumbling to himself now like some lunatic — “  
  
“I’m starting to think it may just be in his best interest if you slit his throat right here and now, probably has brain damage from inhaling too much coke.”  
  
“I can’t do that, it’s not our call to make — “  
  
“If you won’t do it, I will.”  
  
(The speech is broken up by sobs and muffled crying.)  
  
“…but at some point he just became outright delusional, unable to separate reality from roleplay… Forgotten me and only saw Big Boss… I was worried… when we went to Camp Omega, he had a complete meltdown, and I wanted to help him but he - he wouldn’t have it… When he had a semi-catatonic period… he always went on about how Big Boss had abandoned him, so we made the video… if you watch the video you’ll see… he has it… he thinks he’s a copy, a doppelganger, that there are actually two Big Bosses, that he’s not the real one… that’s why… he had me distribute the coke… asked me to sneak into the power plant because what am I supposed to do… if he… if he thinks that… burning it all down will make Big Boss come back… like he came back for us…”  
  
“ — settle the fuck down!”  
  
“Give me the fucking knife already!”  
  
(SLASH. GARGLING)  
  
(DULL SOUND OF SOMETHING REPEATEDLY BANGING AGAINST HEAVY STEEL)

 

 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Yes, you want to scream yourself hoarse, deny that you brought this tragedy about yourself — THAT’S NOT WHAT I SAID. I REMEMBER SOMETHING DIFFERENT.

But I assure you that’s exactly what happened. I should know.

I was there.

How?

Well, yoU mUST UnDERSTAND, V, THAT I AM THE NARRATOR, AND I CAN DECIDE MYSELF HOW MUCH INFORMATION I REVEAL AT ANY TIME, OR HOW I WANT TO PRESENT IT. I AM THE ONE IN CONTROL. **I AM THE PARASITE NESTING IN THE HOLE IN YOUR HEART AND FEEDING OFF YOUR MISERY.**

WE WON’t LeT yoU die. Yeah, your still beating heart’s trying to burst right out of your chest right now, and you can’t breathe and you’re basically shortcircuiting, but don’t worry, it will be fine. We’ll fix you back up. Every time.

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP

“Ocelot!”

Concentrate on your master’s face, his hands framing yours. Forehead to forehead. Ocelot’s here too now, and he’s gonna inject with you some sedatives again, something to help calm you down. Might sting a little, but you’re tough, you’re used to worse.

“It’s alright, you’re gonna be alright, shhhhhh.”

He’s such a good liar, isn’t he? Just like you.

Because HE’S NOT HERE TO SAVE YOU BECAUSE YOU PROMISED TO SAVE HIM YOU PR

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

—s-—okay—————its——— my voic————jum—————

 

—we’ll meet——————————downst—ream———————ther side——————

 

—————and yo———————see————show————

 

——————you

 

 

 

 

 

 

GROUND ZERO

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_gereB jovokoR, ksrayonilesT_

_4691 dn2 rebmetpeS, aissuR_

 

 

\--Drown.

 

 

 

 

 

You know, there’s a line I remember from a novel I once read — it had many wonderful lines that resonated with me, but for some reason, this one really stuck with me.

_Thou saw'st the locked lovers when leaping from their flaming ship; heart to heart they sank beneath the exulting wave; true to each other, when heaven seemed false to them._

I remember the ending, too. Ahab was dragged down under the sea by the whale he had hunted all his life, and Ishmael was the only one to survive the sinking of the ship, to tell the story.

Anyone who knows the story would agree that Captain Ahab is a madman, plagued by phantoms and the demons in his mind. Chasing after his own delusions was what cost him his life, in the end, and his crew.

But I am not dead yet. Not for a little while.

I found myself washed ashore, listening to the waves closeby, calm and gentle. I had watched a butterfly with shimmery blue wings sitting on my arm for some hours perhaps; timidly flapping them, up and down, as if they were simply moved by the breeze. When I finally sat up, it took flight, escaping into the horizon’s twilight, towards the burning wreckage in the distance.

My heart sank when I thought of our home, but I knew I was looking into the past. Our past, immovable.

I caught a drifting white petal in my palm, carefully placing it on the surface of the water by my ankles. Behind me, there was only your past. Your dream, crisp and vibrant, for the first time.

I’d never seen such an indescribably beautiful, peaceful place. I thought: this is what heaven must look like, covered in an ocean of blindingly white flowers. A bright, vast blue sky spanned above it. It was a garden of tranquility. Again, just as when I had seen the butterfly, I was mesmerized.

I went to look for you, mindful not to step on and crush any of the flowers, each of them precious and innocent, when I walked through the field.

I found you sitting next to the unmoving body of a woman, whose face still remains a blank for me, red bleeding into the scattered petals surrounding her.

I sat down next to you, shoulder to shoulder. You looked at the hands in your lap, the silence persevering. I breathed in the sweet scent, tinged by something metallic. Rotten.

You didn’t need to say anything. I saw the weight on your shoulders, the darkness festering in your wounded heart; your empty, forlorn expression.

_I want to die_ , you told me, and I understood. That’s why you were still waiting here, so you could join her.

The truth is, Jack, I’m not able to save you. I wish I could, but I can’t. Nobody, not even Big Boss, has that kind of power. I can’t undo the past, can’t undo what’s been done to you, can’t undo what you’ve done.

Pain gets the better of us all, and that’s alright.

But I can be here for you, so you don’t have to be alone. I won’t abandon you like everyone else who used you. Not because they or you or anyone else forced me to, but because I want to, of my own free will. It’s the only thing I ever wanted. I’ve endured so much just to be close to you and share your pain, and if anyone asked me if I regret it, I’d say no. I’d do it all over again for this fleeting moment; pulling you into my arms so that you forget how much it hurts.

Compassion is always worth it, don’t you think? You deserve to live as much as anyone else, and the world deserves to know your story.

I will sacrifice every part of myself for you, rip my heart out of my chest to put it into yours.

Thunder announced that peace was about to come to an end, and I pulled you deeper into my embrace, to cover your body with mine.

When it’s over, breathe.

And live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kojima voice* did you like it


	15. Elegia (Epilogue)

_“I want to write my own eulogy, and I want to write it in Latin._  
_It seems only fitting to read a dead language at my funeral.”_  
  
                                                                                   - **Jarod Kintz**  


 

 

_Mother Base, Seychelles Waters, 1988_  
_Infirmary_

So much snow. Tiny black and white dots dancing before his eyes. Overlying static that makes it hard to discern what’s happening. Venom isn’t sure if it’s the video, or just in his head.

The longer they watch, though, the clearer the image and the voices become.

 

“You fucking - coward,” he gasps, suspended by his wrists. The next whiplash cuts his skin and rocks his body forward, but it’s still not enough for him.  
  
“I barely feel anything. Harder!”  
  
The man with the belt behind him is visibly uncomfortable doling out punishment - cringing with every strike, at the verge of tears. He stops eventually, rounding a bruised and bloodied Venom to look at his face. “Boss, please…” He pleads. “I don’t want to do this anymore. This has been going on for way too long, and I didn’t -” He stops. Takes a deep breath, because he’s just as much - if not more - of a mess. “I’m going to turn the camera off.”  
  
Venom bellows a laugh, teeth bared. “No you won’t. You will record everything. You will send the tape to Big Boss.” He hangs his head, saliva dripping from his chin and onto the ground to his feet, mingling with blood.  
  
“But _you_ are -”  
  
“He won’t tolerate it… he’ll come here, you’ll see.”  
  
In a burst of frustration, the other soldier grabs his shoulders and starts shaking him, and yells frantically.  
  
“What is _wrong_ with you?!”  
  
Venom spits at his face. 

Fast-forward.

“No. No, no - I can’t do this. I won’t do this. Boss, you need serious help. I’m in way over my head. I can’t fix you. I should’ve told Ocelot. I should’ve let him handle it - “  
  
Venom thrusts the knife into his palm, forces his fingers to curl around the handle. Guides and directs his hand, pulling him closer. The man is shaking and crying, suffering a mental breakdown while Venom remains remarkably calm, pressing the tip of the blade between two of his own ribs.  
  
“He has the same kind of scar,” Venom says, callous about what he’s doing to the other man. Utterly disinterested. He drags the knife through his own skin. “I want to feel how he feels. Feel closer to him.”

Fast-forward until voices the voices drag into moans accompanied by skin rhythmically slapping against skin. All three of them avert their gazes simultaneously, and Ocelot turns the volume of the TV down.

“In _his_ mind,” he says, shooting the seated Big Boss a meaningful look, “He was the one being tortured… by you.”

“Doesn't seem like my style,” is all Big Boss has to say to that. Ocelot pauses and ejects the VHS tape to hold onto it, and pushes the TV trolley out of the way.

“This is completely your fault,” Ocelot informs him, brutally honest. “It’s a direct result of you breaking his hypnosis in such a crude, careless manner. Don’t mess with things you know nothing about. Or my work in general.” He sounds cross - no surprise, given he has to deal with the aftermath. Big Boss mumbles something into his hand.

“Though I _am_ impressed by his ability to hypnotize himself so flawlessly, and not just once. There were two separate layers to it - allowing him to switch characters, perception and memories whenever it suited him, without the two sides being aware of one another. And he did it in such a short time, too. I feel like I should start taking notes.”

He looks at Venom with the stony curiosity of a scientist contemplating the outcome of an experiment gone wrong. Venom sits in his sick bed, unmoving. His thoughts are blank.

“Unfortunately I’m not yet at a point where I can do it this fast,” he grouches. “And then there’s Miller and the rest of the men. Brainwashing them into believing something a little different might require some effort.”

“Kaz is doing damage control?”

“You’re lucky I’ve built a rapport with him and that he relies on me during times of crisis. Otherwise, he would’ve long barged into this room. Guns blazing.”

Venom finally speaks up for the first time. Both of the other men turn their heads towards him. “What happens now?”

“That wholly depends on whether or not our Boss wants to adjust his plan a little or not,” says Ocelot, clinically. There’s no fondness for Venom to be found in his voice or expression, anymore, now that he remembers that he’s nothing but a puppet. A tool. “But it shouldn’t matter to you either way. You know now what you are.” The way he says it, subtly condescending, Venom doesn’t doubt he’d be dumped in the ocean like garbage if that was the most practical solution.

He still has so many questions, though.

“What happened at Camp Omega?”

Ocelot humors him grudgingly. It’s so painfully obvious that he has no love left for him, and it makes Venom cringe. “Oh, I’d like to know as well. Your pilot and your medic said there was no visible enemy activity in the area. Not like I can confirm with them _now_.”

“But DD was attacked - “

“DD ran into a landmine and the blast impaled him on a branch. Again, getting confirmation from the vet who took care of him might prove difficult.”

“Flies, huh,” Big Boss chuckles, studying a clipboard in his hand. The personnel files.

“I’m so glad you can still find humor in this situation,” Ocelot snaps at him, and Big Boss rolls his eyes. “For all I know,” Ocelot continues, talking to Venom, “The one who made the distress call was you. Or your _friend_.”

Venom falls quiet after that, instead focusing on his hands, resting on the blanket. He had done all of this? Everything - and then killed all those involved. The memory makes his stomach churn. He looks at Big Boss for help, the anxiety threatening to crush him, and Ocelot’s belittling commentary sure isn’t helping.

“Even I cannot predict what he’s capable of doing at this point, and that should _worry_ you. He’s already jeopardized this entire operation and it slipped right by me. If you ask me -”

_Please._

“Adam,” Big Boss says, mercifully. “I want to talk to him. Alone.”

“Again?” Ocelot sighs, exasperated. “So that you can smash his mind into even tinier pieces? He’s just starting to act somewhat lucid again. I’m really not comfortable with leaving you two alone right now.”

“I don’t care if you’re comfortable. You have something to take care of yourself, right? Do your damn job.”

Hard to argue with that, although Venom hasn’t seen Ocelot so disgruntled in… possibly forever. Or that subservient to someone else, for that matter. It feels like he’s watching an old married couple bicker. He’s never interacted like that with Ocelot, himself. It seems alien.

“Fine, _Boss_. It’s your call. As always.”

Before Ocelot leaves, he draws up another syringe and pointedly leaves it on the tray near Big Boss. There’s a variety of medical bottles containing intravenously administered drugs. Lorazepam. Propofol.

Pentobarbital.

The door falls shut, and then he and Big Boss are finally alone. He _did_ come, in the end. Like his other self had hoped.

For Venom, it feels like he just awoke from a long dream - another coma. With Big Boss always near him, but forever out of reach. He feels so familiar, and yet the man sitting on the folding chair next to his bed is a stranger. Venom isn’t even sure he’s talked face to face to him since Dhekelia, four years ago. And much like back then, he’s entirely disoriented and waiting for Ishmael to save him and drag him out of bed. To help him stand and move forwards. To lead the way.

He’s silent, this time. Waiting for Venom to say something instead.

“I,” he starts, but chokes on his own voice. This one’s on him. It was his responsibility. He can’t always rely on Ishmael, can he?

“What?”

“I thought he was you,” he forces himself to say, the guilt heavy and crushing.

“Well…” Big Boss says, stalls for time by shifting in his seat. “Anyone can be Big Boss, I guess. Doesn’t take much more than a few convincing lies. You’re living proof of that - “

“You don’t understand!” Venom blurts, interrupting the other. “I _know_ you. Not just the legend that everyone sees, but the other parts. I know who you are as a _whole_. Your dreams and fears. He wasn’t like you in the least. How could this happen,” he says, touching his own head.

“That’s what you’re upset about?” Big Boss cocks a brow, like he was expecting something else.

“He was just a stupid, loudmouthed medic -”

“So were you, some years ago. I remembered something too, you know.”

Venom perks up. “What?”

“Your name. It didn’t come back to me until I watched you sleep while Ocelot chewed my ear off about consequences. But there’s still a bunch of stuff I don’t remember at all, even though I feel like I should. How the two of us first met. Or how I got this scar on my chest. How we fucked.” He chuckles.

“We did fuck, didn’t we? I must’ve been trashed.”

 _You were_ , a thought pops into Venom’s head, though he can’t tell where it came from. _The next day you acted like nothing had happened. I was livid -_

“What about,” Venom swallows, wets his throats. “About two years ago, when you hired that group to - when I was captured,” he finishes, diplomatically. Not wanting to go into the details.

“Hmmm?” Big Boss tilts his head, quizzically, though there’s something odd about it. Lines out tension around his eyes that weren’t there before.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

_Lying straight to my face, Boss._

“Guess I made that up, too. I’ve outlived my use. You’re going to dispose of me soon, aren’t you.” He eyes the syringe. Might be for the best. Hell, he’s been trying to kill himself, now wouldn’t Big Boss doing it for him be nothing but _mercy?_

“Come on, now. I thought you said you knew me. I’m not gonna do anything like that. To be entirely honest with you,” he says, leaning forward, “All this fits very well with my current plans. I am positively thrilled. And Ocelot has _no idea_ , for once.”

**WE ALL HAVE TWO HEARTS BEATING IN OUR CHESTS. ONE BELONGS TO THE PERSON WE HAVE TO BE, AND THE OTHER TO THE PERSON WE REALLY ARE.**

“…What?” Venom feels the remaining color drain from his face when Big Boss stands. He holds his breath when he bridges the distance between them, goes rigid when hands seize his head and force him to look up. Thumbs stroke affectionately over his cheekbones.

“You are a _monster_ , my friend.”

“You - you sent the distress ca- “

One thumb is pressed against his lips.

“Forget about it. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He’s right. It doesn’t matter anymore. There’s no reason to worry about anything. Everything happens for a reason. Venom fills his thoughts Big Boss instead, and dread makes room for relief. Calm, calm, calm. His heartbeat slows, and it’s so tempting to close his eyes.

“You know every part of me. Even the parts I’ve never shown to anybody. It feels very…”

“Liberating,” Venom finishes, leaning his head against his abdomen, and watches Big Boss one-handedly work open his belt and fly.

“I got my first erection when I was ten,” he says, tugging his dick free, and V puts his lips on it promptly, without having to be told. _I know you._ He kisses a lazy trail down the soft flesh, and then pushes it into his mouth to suck on it. Sliding up and down the length, taking as much as he can. “After stabbing a man in the throat with a fork.”

“Mmm…”

“I thought I was sick. Tried to hide it, out of shame. But she saw right through me, because she was the same. She made me hers.”

Big Boss’s dick is rapidly hardening in his mouth, spurting a first string of precum. He feels fingers scythe through his hair, balling into fists at the back of his head. Then he’s jerked forward abruptly, and he gags around the cock when it’s head hits the back of his throat. Spits, and braces himself against Big Boss’s thighs.

“I could smell her juices whenever she was working on me. See the hard nipples under her uniform. Day after day filled with new degradations and beatings, the core of my training. I would do anything for her. Her arousal sparked mine.”

Big Boss thrusts into his throat repeatedly, mercilessly. V tries to tear himself away, but Big Boss’s grip is like iron, unyielding. His own cock begins to stir traitorously, giving away how much the other man’s selfish actions really arouse him. Venom’s eyes roll back in his head when Big Boss finally pulls out.

“What… about this?” He asks, belatedly, desperately sucking in air. Big Boss’s eye is dark.

“This is for me.”

He thrusts back into his open mouth to fuck it raw and all breath out of him, and pulls His belt loose, dangling close to V’s head.

_yes please_

 

* * *

 

He wakes to a bright, sunlit room and a cassette tape sitting on his bedside table, titled ‘Sweet Dreams’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[SIDE B]

“I know what you need.”  
  
“What do I need?”  
  
“Control. A master. Someone to give meaning to your existence”  
  
“And what do you need?”  
  
“Obedience. Unwavering loyalty.”  
  
“…I’ve already made my only choice a long time ago.”  
  
“You did. But it’s time to call things what they are. You and I could never have a normal relationship. Professionally _or_ personally.”  
  
“I know. It wouldn’t work.”  
  
“I want to own you completely. Mentally, physically and sexually. Twenty-four hours a day.”  
  
“But as long as I need to be your phantom, we can’t…”  
  
“That doesn’t matter. A slave doesn’t stop being a slave when the master leaves the house.”  
  
“ … “  
  
“You’re mine. And you will never give any part of yourself to anyone else again without my permission. Do you understand?”  
  
“Yes, Sir. I understand.”  
  
“Then it’s a promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Obtained cassette tape (Sweet Dreams Alt Ver.).](https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/dropmutwva0txvq/sd-alt.mp3)


	16. BONUS

Thanks for sticking along for the ride! The epilogue turned out totally differently from what I originally envisioned, but it's been a long time since I touched this fic so I guess that's to be expected. It is what it is now and while I want to keep writing for BBV (especially within this canon divergent BDSM AU), I would like to focus on some of their other encounters and explore their established M/s dynamic further. All fics set in this universe are compiled in a series.

I've also listened to way too many different versions of Sweet Dreams during the writing of this fic, including this [upbeat dance version](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q85-h0LRM38), which is my credits song of sorts.

Lastly, there's some awesome (and very NSFW) art inspired by this story, so please enjoy.

By [Feriowind](http://feriowind.tumblr.com/)

 

By [Muepin](http://muepin.tumblr.com/)

 

By [Kazoo](https://twitter.com/Kazoohira_)

 

By [Pirate Pudding](http://piratepudding.tumblr.com)


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